Walking
by Pockets Full of Sunshine
Summary: Sequel to Assimilation. Takes place in the fifth year. What would happened when he ran out of leaps? He would learn to walk.
1. Chapter 1

Yay! First chapter of the fifth-book-crossover! I hope you all enjoy. =] This chapter and the next chapter will sort of be pre-book beginning, mostly because I don't have OoTP with me. I let my dad borrow it and I don't see him until the weekend...

I don't own RK or HP.

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Chapter One

"Oi, Kenshin, get up!" Hiko yelled, knocking on the door. A groan greeted him from the other side, a creak of a floorboard, and a crash. "And don't forget to put on your gi!"

"OW!" With a heavy sigh, he walked away from the door, knowing that his apprentice would kill him if he came in. First day back and he'd already banged himself up. Oh well, better get the bruising started early—they were sparring later that day whether the kid liked it or not.

"S-sorry about that, Master," the boy said about twenty minutes, hair sopping wet from the recent shower. "The, uh, bed back at Hogwarts is wider, so when I went to put my hands down…"

"You were met by nothing and fell, toppling sideways since you sleep sitting up."

"Basically." Kenshin slid into the seat across from him. "I hate jetlag. Now I can see why everyone complains about traveling. Anyway, good morning."

"Good morning," Hiko answered, serving the breakfast. Normally he'd make the kid do it, but not the day he came back. "And happy late birthday."

Kenshin blinked. "Oh yeah, I forgot, I'm fifteen, aren't I?"

"Yes, but that doesn't excuse you from training. Now finish quickly. I expect to find you warming up within the next fifteen minutes." Surprisingly, he received nothing but a short smile and an increase in eating speed. Fifteen minutes was not needed apparently—five was considered enough. The kid grabbed his katana and left immediately.

"I'll do my dishes later!"

Hiko was left standing there, rather shocked by the enthusiasm his student had just shown—it was very rare to see him look like that. Then again, he hadn't been able to train properly for a eleven months. It would've made him act like that, too. At least this meant he'd be able to beat Kenshin to the ground sooner than he hoped. As he did his own dishes, he wondered if the boy had gotten rusty at all but knew that he probably hadn't. Then he wondered if the kid still lost it while fighting. Well, he'd out in a bit.

He watched out the window for a bit, assessing the stance and swings of the kata. No, he definitely hadn't gotten rusty—if anything, his good mood made him even _better_. Now that was a force to be feared. How was it that his idiot of an apprentice managed to surpass him? This meant he'd have to teach him the final technique…but he'd wait until his mental state had improved. What amazed him most, though, was not the perfection of his kata at all, but another form of change entirely.

Somehow, in the ten months he hadn't been looking, Himura Kenshin had grown up.

Not physically, no, in that aspect he was exactly the same. And grown up wasn't even a good way to put it…The boy hadn't matured, per say, but something close enough to it. A better way to put it would almost be to say that he came back to life. When he'd left, Kenshin had been a shell of the person he used to be, a ghost stuck inside a human body. Sometimes it was amazing the kid hadn't tried to kill himself (though Hiko was profoundly happy he hadn't). But when he smiled, there was only a hint of that sadness left. If it would ever go away was a different matter altogether. No, the boy would always have that there, but he was healing. Hiko let out a heavy sigh, grabbed his own katana, and walked outside. Now was the ultimate test, he supposed.

"Stop," he said once he drew to level with his student. "I hope that your exhaustion won't get in the way of your technique."

"I'll be fine, don't worry," Kenshin said. "Here or the river?"

"Here," he answered. The redhead sheathed his katana. "Do I still need to stop you?"

The boy hesitated, then nodded. Hiko silently swore; the danger was still there. It would always be there. Without warning, he drew his blade, but only swiped at air. Reflexes the same…he brought his weapon up, blocking his student's blow, but barely. Strength still the same, weak compared to him but strong compared to most. He attacked again, but it was blocked. Before he could disappear, he checked Kenshin's eyes—at the moment they were still blue. Good.

The next attack came flying at him and when he brought up his katana, it didn't fully stop it; a small cut opened on his right arm. The boy smiled and hopped off. It was only a second, though, before he was gone. Still like a monkey, it seemed. Parrying was becoming more difficult. Little cuts were starting to form. At least he could feel that his blade had connected a few times as well. It wasn't until he found an opening to go on offense, though, that he saw exactly what he'd been dreading:

The boy's eyes were yellow.

"Stop, Kenshin!" he called. He parried another blow. "Kenshin!"

His eyes flicked back to their normal color. He in midair. With the blunt side of his katana, Hiko slipped past his defenses and hit him hard of the shoulder. A very painful sound affirmed that Kenshin had his official reunion with the ground.

"That's going to hurt later," he said with a strained smile, standing up, clutching his shoulder. "Did you really have to hit my right one?"

"It was an opening that I decided to take. Now stop being so melodramatic. How's your head?"

"Hurts a bit, but it'll be fine in a moment."

"Move your hand and let me look at your shoulder." The boy did as told and Hiko leaned down to inspect the damage. There was a cut, but it wasn't as bad as it looked. "You're good enough that we can get the bandages later…unless, that is, you can heal it with your magic." Oh, he'd have _so _much fun teasing him about this.

"Can't do magic outside of school until I'm seventeen," he said. "Besides, I don't know how do that yet…oh yeah! I have to tell you about the boy that got into a ferret over dinner."

"Along with the rest of your school year, may I add." The both got into position for another match. Next time, he reminded himself, hit in a less-useful area.

"Oh, um, about that…" Hiko launched the first attack, but Kenshin just blocked it and continued speaking like it was nothing. Really, it was rather irritating having someone be better than him. The boy disappeared. "You might get _slightly _mad at me, so in advance I'm telling you that it's not my fault and that the world works in ironic ways." He rematerialized as he went to hit from behind. Almost succeeded, too.

"What did you do?" Block, attack, have it blocked, pupil vanish. It was good, though, that Kenshin was talking while fight—kept him in the right state of mind for a longer amount of time. "You didn't go off and join a rebel army, did you?"

"Not on purpose." A thin cut on his side. Being hit was such a degrading feeling, especially when it came from someone who didn't even reach your shoulder.

"So you're honestly part of a rebel army?"

"Not exactly. It's really confusing. Basically there's this man called Voldemort who about thirteen years ago lost power. I'll explain all _that _inside. He's a bit like the magical form of Hitler, that's how I think of him. Tortures, discriminates a certain group and all that oppose him, kills by the thousands, all that stuff. Anyway, he regained power on June twenty-fourth and I somehow managed to get involved. Sheer accident, I swear. If it needs to be blamed on anyone, blame Dumbledore for letting me stay with the Weasleys."

Hiko sighed. "Explain the rest during dinner. And _don't _leave out the ball."

"H-HEY!"

He landed his first real hit, blade connecting with Kenshin's side. The boy immediately retailed though, moving in his usual god-like speed and slicing across his back. Now that was going to definitely going to hurt later.

"Concentrate, idiot."

Three more times they sparred and each time Hiko had the stop him. It was getting ridiculous, but he really had to accept it now: The kid wasn't going to get better. He sighed.

"Get up," he said, nudging Kenshin's back with foot. No response. "This isn't funny, get up." No answer. He got on his knees and rolled the boy over, only to find his eyes closed. His temple was bleeding and a rock was right where he landed. Damn it, he'd knocked the kid out and it was almost nightfall. Apparently he'd have to make another meal without help. "First day and you're already a hassle."

It luckily wasn't too long before he came about, only twenty-minutes or so.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting up and holding his head. "Did you knock me out?"

"That last time I hit you, you hit a rock. So yes, I knocked you out." A headshake was all he got as an answer as Kenshin stood up and sat down across from him. Hiko pulled an icepack out of the freezer and wrapped into a paper towel before passing it to him. "I fixed up your injuries."

"Thanks." He put this icepack to his head and winced. Without mention that he saw it, Hiko sat down, placing a bowl of rice in front of both of them. "So you wanted to hear about my school year?"

"From start to finished."

It took a while for Kenshin to finished, as Hiko needed to frequently interrupt to ask what certain things were (magic and what it involved was difficult to understand) and there were side bits of information. Some parts were funny, like the boy turning into a ferret, and others rather disturbing, like what happened at that sporting event. By the time the story was finished, the moon was high in the sky.

"I see," Hiko said after Kenshin stopped talking. "You're right: The word works in ironic ways."

"So you aren't mad at me?" Big blue eyes looked up at him, filled with hope.

"Not about that, no," answered Hiko calmly. "As you said, it's not your fault. If anything I should be mad at the old man, but I believe it was a bad coincidence and that luck is never quite on your side."

"Heh. I get that feeling, too, sometimes."

"However," he said and Kenshin's look of hope turned to one of terror. Hiko's inner self was wearing a very evil smile at the moment—oh, he'd gone eleven months without seeing that face. "I said go from start to finish and you seemed to have mysteriously forgotten to tell me about the dance, instead only mentioning the important part."

"It's really not all that exciting," said the boy quickly. "It was just a ball that I went with a girl and I found out the gamekeeper has a giantess for a mother."

"Oh really? And who was your date?"

"Ginny Weasley." He seemed to sink a little in his chair. This would be fun, he could feel it.

"Ron's little sister?" An embarrassed nod. "Why didn't you with your other friend?"

"Hermione already had another date."

"How tragic. Tell me, did you step on Miss Weasley's feet at all?"

"No!"

"Then did you look down at the ground the entire time?"

"Yes."

"Are you dating her?"

"No and why does it matter?"

"Humor me, idiot."

"No, I'm not dating her. I don't want to date her either."

"Did she kiss you?"

"Ye—hey! That was unfair!"

Hiko laughed and waved his hand. "Go to bed now, Kenshin, or I'll wake you up _before _sunrise."

Kenshin mumbled something and stood up, silent as a ghost when he entered his bedroom. Hiko watched as the door swung shut behind him, capturing his silence so it could close without a sound despite its noisy hinges. His idiot of an apprentice was most certainly a strange one. Everything he'd told him about…he just hoped this next year would be calmer than the first.

It was the curse of the lonely man, he supposed, to wish happiness on the only person in his life. What the boy had for the time being was good enough, but how long could it last? What would happen, if the school found out about him? How would he deal with it?

_I washed my hands_. That's what he'd told his friend, wasn't it? _I washed my hands_. How much longer would he need to wash his hands? Hiko would be a fool if hadn't noticed that it was a habit that hadn't gone away. When it came to Kenshin, there was very little he missed. Scars in particular, were things he saw but rarely mentioned. He'd patched up the boy enough to know all the physical ones—the bullet wounds, the knife marks, the odd scratches, the ones on his hand where he'd scrubbed the skin away, the scars caused from their spars or from his random clumsy moments, the small mark from on his lower back from a little before he found him. And of course he knew the emotional scars from behind all of them.

He knew that the first bullet wound the boy had allowed happen, knew the cause behind every knife mark and how many of them haunted him in his sleep, knew the scratches were from when he tried to save the woman he still called his mother, knew that under the scars on his skin were hidden more deaths than any human alive should ever know.

"I never realized I'd done it until after it was too late," Kenshin had told him when Hiko first asked. "I hated myself for it too, for not noticing because I hated pain. It didn't happen often, though. Tomoe bandaged them two of the handful of times I've ever done it. She saw the first time. After she was dead I had to do it myself. It's surprisingly hard to bandage one hand with another hand that's already hurt. One times, when I was thirteen, it was so bad I had to get Katsura to do it for me."

"Well, I hope you don't do it anymore," he'd answered, eyeing the boy's hands. "All my medical supplies will be used on sparring. Don't expect me to go easy on you."

"I wouldn't want you to."

Looking back, he wondered if he should have said anything differently. Not anything out of pity of course, no. He didn't _pity _his student. In fact, he thought him to be more of deserving of the cold shoulder than anything else, but he couldn't turn him away, so why bother ignoring him? And he couldn't very well tell him it wasn't his fault because it clearly was. Maybe he should have said that there was no need to wash his hands anymore. That might have worked.

Unfortunately he couldn't going back in time to do anything about it, now could he? No, sadly not. It worried him, though, that last night he'd heard the faucet running for so long. The kid was obviously lightening up (he'd laughed which was a miracle in and of itself), so why did he have to keep washing his hands? The blood wasn't going to come off; it was a wasted effort. That didn't mean, though, that he had to continue as if he were still killing every night. Maybe this school would be the best for him. The nightmares would never go away, and neither would the blood that was still caught under his skin. That hint of sadness behind every smile would stay and it would be impossible for his eyes to stay blue forever. But maybe one day he'd realize it was just part of who he is and stop trying to change. Maybe one day he'd learn to live with it.

Maybe one day he would stop washing his hands.

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The kitchen floor was cold, but Kenshin didn't mind—outside was so hot that the temperature change felt nice against his bare feet. It was so good to be back in Japan, to go back to the comfortable solitude he hadn't realized how much he'd missed. He allowed himself a small smile at the thought of telling that to his master. Laughter would probably be his answer (though at the moment a glower would be more likely). Though he'd found he honestly _did _like his new school, nothing was better than the stillness and the silence that could only be achieved here. But going to school…he remembered a conversation he had about it once.

"If you could do anything you wanted after all this was over," Katsura had asked him after a short meeting one day, "what would it be?"

It had taken him a while to think about it. He'd just turned thirteen a few days before and it seemed almost impossible that he would ever do anything else but perform kill after kill.

"Go to school," he'd answered, looking out the window. "That's what I'd do; I'd go to school." It was something he and Tomoe had talking about and she'd made _that _offer. "But that's not going to happen."

Katsura put his hand on the top his head right before he left the room. "You're allowed to hope, Kenshin. Don't count yourself out." It had been the most he'd spoken since he'd come back from Otsu.

Well, his commander had certainly been right—he'd gotten what he hoped for. Not in the way he'd imagined, but he wasn't complaining. It was _better _than what he'd imagined; not only was he in school, but he was in a school learning things he didn't already know _and_ it would out of the country. Perfect in its own way.

"Is lunch ready yet?" came the irritated voice of his master.

"Yeah, here it is," he said, going over the table with the two bowls in his hand. "Sorry about earlier."

"You should be." Kenshin winced at the snap in voice. Okay, _that _part was something he didn't miss. "Next time I tell you to stop, follow my instruction."

"I'm really sorry, honest," he said quickly. For the past few minutes he'd been trying to block out what happened, preferring to think about other things, so he wanted to get this over and done with so that he could go back to thinking over things. "You know I can't help it!"

"When your blade actually connected, though, you were already back to your senses."

Kenshin looked down at his food, the guilt he'd been trying to ignore rushing back to him. "It was momentum," he said. "I was only a few inches away. Besides, you dodged it for the most part."

"Yes, for the most part, but you still could have caused serious damaged to _both _of us." Kenshin blinked. What? To the both of them? "Wait, you didn't notice?"

"Didn't notice what?"

With a sigh, his master said, "From the angle you were coming down and the angle my katana was tilted, you would have sliced straight through my right arm and speared yourself through the chest. Not only was the move inappropriate for a spar, but it was also suicide, idiot."

"I-I—" His ran his fingers through his hair, shocked. "What did you say? Why didn't I snap out of it before I launched that attack?"

His master shook his head, either angry or worried. Probably angry, since the idea of him worried was inconceivable. "I yelled everything I could think of—your name, called you an idiot, told you to stop, said that Tomoe would be angry is you killed him, told you that you were about to kill yourself if you went through with it. I even went so far as to say your friends would hate you if you killed me, but you still didn't wake up. Do you have idea why?"

He shut his eyes and tried to remember what had been going through his head, but the only thing he could remember thinking was, _He's going to kill me. _Where the hell did that come from? That wasn't normal…maybe his nightmare the night before had been exceptionally bad—according to his master, his nightmares and his performance in sparring had some connection.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I really have no idea. How's your arm?"

"My arm is fine, the cut was shallow," his master said. "How banged up are you?"

"Well, rolling down a rock filled hill and into a the shallowest area of a river does cause a lot of injuries. And I think I might have fractured a rib. I'll be fine to keep training, though. Just maybe not…"

"Let's lay off the sparring for a few days. There's no need to repeat the performance you showed today." Kenshin averted his eyes, ashamed about the entire ordeal. What the hell was wrong with him? Oh well, he'd figure it out later. "I hope you cleaned all the cuts and scrapes before covering them."

"I did, don't worry. I really don't want to have gravel stuck in my skin when they finally heal." He finished his modest meal and collected his and his master's dishes to wash them. "I'm sorry."

"Get outside to continue your training. I want to see perfection later, understand?" his master said after he was done. Kenshin nodded. A hand was placed on his shoulder, causing him to jump. "And do me a favor and think about something else."

"O-okay."

"Now go on, outside." With a hurried nod, he grabbed his katana and scrambled out the door.

"At this rate, I'll never get the chance to show him," he heard his master say quietly right before the door was full shut.

_Show me what_? he wondered for a while afterwards, mechanically going through the movements. If it was anything about Hiten Mitsurugi, the only thing left was the final technique. But if it was that, did that mean his master thought he'd never be good enough to learn it? And to think he'd thought he was improving. No, he'd get better. He _would _get the opportunity to learn it…somehow. No matter what it took, he would surpass every obstacle to finish his training.

Damn it, he was getting distracted. _Do me a favor and think about something else._

So he followed the advice, clearing his head of any negative thoughts before focusing on something else—the coming school year. What would it be like, now that Voldemort was back to power? It wasn't as if he had any news to give him any form of a hint. And who would the new DADA teacher be? Hopefully no one bad—Moody had been bad enough to last him a life time. His katana swung through the air. It was so hot out here. At least the kitchen floor had been nice and cold and there was a fan in his bedroom. If only they had air conditioning. Then inside would have been perfect.

How long he was out there, going through move after move, he had no idea. By the time he realized night had fallen, he was in a better mood than he was before. There was always something calming about training. Finally he sheathed his sword and headed back inside. The clock on the microwave read 8:46. Wow, he'd been out there for a _really _long time without stopping.

"I was wondering when you'd come back inside," said his master from the table, trying to shoo away the owl that was hopping close to him in an almost curious way. "I was about to come get you—this bird got here about five minutes ago and won't leave me alone."

"Oh, uh, thanks," he said and opened the letter. It read:

_To Kenshin,_

_This is Remus Lupin. Though we have never met, I have heard much about you. According to Ron and Hermione, you said that you might like to come down the last two weeks before school. If you would still like to, I have been given the job of picking you up by way of the Floo Network on August 17__th__. The others say sorry for not writing to you, but by the time the owl had reached you, summer vacation would have been over. If you would still like to come, write back immediately so I can get your message in time. _

_Hope to meet you soon, _

_R.J. Lupin_

_P.S. There is a package of owl food attached to her leg. Please feed her._

"Who is it?" his master asked as Kenshin went into one of the kitchen drawers, pulling out an envelope, a pen, and slip of paper. Then he got a small bowl from a cabinet and filled it with water. "Can you please get this thing away from me?"

He brought the water over and the owl went to it immediately, well clear of the man. "It was about going to England at the end of August. It was from the person who would have to pick me up if I went. May I? I'll need to get my school things and I can only do that in Diagon Alley."

His master looked at him for a moment, thinking. Finally he said, "If you want to, then go. I think it's a good idea." He nodded and wrote:

_Mr. Lupin,_

_I'll be able to make it. I'm not quite sure what you have to say to get here, though, so I suggest you asked Professor Dumbledore. I'll see you on August 17__th__ or 18__th__, depending on when you come. _

—_Kenshin_

He fed the owl as told, attached the letter to her leg, and watched her fly off.

"I ate an hour ago. Leftovers are in the refrigerator."

"Thank you. Should I continue training outside once I'm done? If I'm leaving so soon, I should get in as much as I can, right?"

"Do what you want."

A pause. Kenshin sat down with his food and ate in silence as his master read over a newspaper.

"I'm sorry," he said before he went outside again. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Stop apologizing, idiot, and get outside."

"I'll see you in the morning, Master."

"Don't fall asleep outside like you used to."

"I won't."

He walked out into the hot July night, a small smile on his face, mind filled with racing thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't know why, but this took AGES to write/come out. And all because of school-related-ness. As much as I adore block scheduling, having finals twice a years is terrible. Anyway, I love the end of this chapter even if it means what's going to happen in the beginning of the NEXT chapter is going to happen earlier than I wanted. Oh, and by the way, even in Assimilation, I knew that I got the meaning of his name wrong.

I don't own HP or RK.

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Chapter Two

Remus Lupin was greeted by an empty room when he stepped out of the fire on August seventeenth—eighteen, he reminded himself, as that was the day it was in Japan. The sun was high over the sky, but the house a pleasant temperature. It was a very modest room, a combination between a sitting room and a kitchen. There was a small table with two chairs, a couch, a counter and other kitchen appliances. There were four doors around the room, and one front door. The whole area was spotless. A trunk was in the corner, notably not as large as many of the other school ones. It was marked in Japanese.

There were two things strange about this setting, though: There were bloodied bandages in the garbage can and the absence of any other people. After another moment of looking around, a voice alerted him of where the residences of the house were.

"Baka deshi!" floated in a voice from outside the open window. "Chuui harau!"

"Sumimasen deshita, Shishou!" The boy dropped his voice and Remus couldn't hear the rest. With a slight shake of his head, he opened the front door and stepped outside. The boy waved when he saw him, smiling, his red hair being played with by the wind. His arm was bleeding, but he didn't seem to notice. "Ohayou!" The older man hit him on the back of his head, causing the boy to say something, blush, and run up the hill to greet him.

"Sorry," said the boy, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "I meant to say hello. I haven't spoken English all summer. You must be Mr. Lupin."

"Yes," he answered, holding out his hand. The boy shook it as the older man came up. "And you must be Kenshin and you his guardian?" He nodded to the man who looked down and asked something in Japanese.

"Kochira wa Lupin-san desu," said the boy, motioning to him. Then he turned back. "I was just introducing you. This is my teacher, Hi—I mean Seijuuro Hiko, my guardian."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Hiko." He held out his hand. He shook it.

"Kochirakoso douzo yoroshiku onegai shimasu."

"He says nice to meet you," Kenshin translated. "Would you like to move this inside? I have to fix up my arm."

"Oh, um, okay," said Remus, following the other two back inside. At the sink the boy washed out the cut on his arm, arguing with the older man. It was all very confusing. The only other language he somewhat knew was French. "You'll be coming to my house first, and I'll explain why when we get there."

Kenshin nodded and started sifting around in the drawers. Hiko handed sighed, took his arm, and pulled some bandages from the cabinet.

"Sorry about this," he said, wincing as Hiko fixed up the wound. "We were sparring and when you arrived, I lost concentration and got hit." He turned back to the other man when he was finished and said, "Arigatou, Shishou." Oh, what was going on? "Did Professor Dumbledore tell you about my, um, situation?"

"Yes, he had to explain why I would be casting an Invisibility spell on a sword," Remus said, eyes taking another sweep of the small house. Yes, Dumbledore had told him—and this was not the sort of house he expected the boy to live in. "But don't worry, I don't think badly of you. If anything, I find it somewhat interesting."

A sigh of relief. "That's good. I'm pretty much ready, I have all my things packed. I'll just go change quickly. Um, neither of you speak each other's language…I think the most he knows is hello and goodbye. Anyway, see you in a second."

For a moment he was there and then he was gone…Remus hadn't even seen him _move_. Oh, this is so _confusing_. He looked to Hiko, wishing he had a way to break this awkward silence, but since he didn't know how to say anything, he was forced to stay there silently. At least it was only a few minutes before the boy came out again, in a tee-shirt and jeans, clutching the sheathed sword he'd had around his waist earlier. Now that his arms were visible, Lupin could see they were littered with healing scrapes and bruises, scars, and the one large area of bandage. If all those were from training with his sword, Remus was very glad he stuck with magic.

"Are you ready to go, Kenshin?" he asked as the redhead picked up his trunk. "I'll cast the spell when we get to my house. I currently have a friend there, you'll meet her in a bit. I'll go first so that you can say goodbye. Listen, when you go, say 'Number Nine, Alistair Lane', understood?"

He received a nod. Remus walked over to the fire and threw the Floo power in. With a cheery wave, he stepped in and said, "Number Nine, Alistair Lane!" There was the customary whooshing sound and the feeling of being spun around so fast he was weightless. Then he ended up on the floor. He wasn't very good at just walking out like most adults his age were.

"Welcome back, Remus," said his companion, holding out her hand for him. He grabbed it, even if he didn't fully need the help in the first place. "That was shorter than I expected. Where's the kid?"

Remus dusted off pants (he thought he had to wear Muggle clothes, though now it was apparent it hadn't been needed) and looked up to the smiling Tonks. Her hair was bright pink today, always the happy the one. He sighed.

"Kenshin—that's his name, remember?—is coming. I think he's just saying goodbye to his—"

With a clatter, the little redhead came tumbling out of the flames and onto the floor. Remus winced; that looked very, very painful. Then again, falling on a hard surface often was. He held out his hand for the boy to take.

"Oro…" he said, accepting the help, but holding his arm as he stood. "Ari—I mean thanks. Sorry, I did it again."

"It's okay, Kenshin, how's your arm?"

"Fine, thank you." Wow, so polite. The others in the Order (and the kids) who knew him were certainly right—definitely not what one expected when they heard the word 'murderer'.

"So this is Kenshin?" said Tonks from behind him. The boy nodded. "Hm, you're a lot smaller than I imagined, I thought Ginny was exaggerating."

"W-what?" His face flooded with color. Remus shook his head.

"No need to embarrass him already, Dora," he said with a sigh. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention backed to the new arrival.

"Sorry, sorry," she said with a laugh and held out her hand. They shook. "I'm Tonks, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," he answered. "I'm Himura Kenshin—I mean Kenshin Himura." His eyes darted to the window. "What time is it here?"

"It's seven at night on August seventeenth. But before we go, we need to tell you a few things."

"Do you want me to explain it, Remus?" He nodded and immediately she launched into a surface-level description of everything the Order was made of. He ran his hands over his face, trying to shave away at the exhaustion that weighed over his bones.

"Everything else can be explained when we're there," he said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Now, Kenshin, read this." The boy's eyes darted across the words quickly before he looked between the two adults in the room. Now, how would he react to the request Dumbledore had asked of him? Well, that would be found out soon enough. "Good?"

"Yes…How are we getting there?"

"Floo power again," said Tonks as she took the flower pot containing the substance down from the mantle above the fireplace. "We would use Side-Along Apparition, but we don't want you to get nauseous on your first day in England, of course. So go on, say the address. We'll go after you."

Hesitantly, Kenshin took the green powder, threw into the flames, and stepped in. "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!" A whoosh and he was gone. An old story by now.

"Do you think he'll do it?" asked Tonks the moment he was gone. "I mean, it _is _completely against the reason why we came here originally…."

Remus ran his hands through his hair and shrugged. "I just met him today, same as you. Sirius said I'll like him, so I guess I will. Well, anyway, I'll see you in a moment."

After the using the Floo Network for the third time that day, he found himself on the

kitchen of the Order's headquarters. Gingerly he stood up, barely avoiding Tonks as she stepped out of the fireplace without falling. There was a reason why Remus avoided this form of travel above all else—he much preferred brooms and Apparition.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm fine, really," Kenshin was saying, taking a step away from the woman as she fussed over his arm. "It's just a scratch. But thanks…I wasn't quite expecting, well, sorry for not telling you last summer."

"Oh, it's all right," said Mr. Weasley as his wife added, "We don't think badly of you, especially not after I met you already. Don't worry."

"It's good to see you again, Kenshin," said Sirius, shaking his hand. "There's a lot you need to be filled in on."

"Are you hungry?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Kenshin shook his head.

"It's around eleven in the morning where I came from," he answered. "So I ate not too long ago."

"Molly, we should probably get along with the meeting so he can speak with his friends," said Minerva, entering the kitchen with Moody, Kinsley, and Severus. "They can fill him in on that area after we talk to him now."

"I don't believe we've met," said Kinsley, striding over Kenshin. "I'm Kinsley Shacklebolt, pleased to meet you."

"Kenshin Himura. Nice to meet you too, sir."

"And I'm Moody. The real one this time. Now let's start the meeting, it might take a while."

"Oh, yes, you're right. Well, take a seat, dear, any will do. There's a lot to tell you," said Minerva. Remus felt a pang of guilt, knowing what they were about to ask.

"I've explained the basics," said Tonks, taking a seat next to Kenshin. Remus sat on the other side of him and soon all the other adults had pulled up chairs as well. "Such as who we are, a few of the people we're consisted off, the reason _why _we're fighting, how Voldemort is operating in secret…you know, that stuff."

"I would like to ask you not repeat this to your friends," said Kingsley. "They only know up to a certain point and it has been agreed upon that they don't need to know any more." Next to him, the boy tensed. Were they really going to do this? According the Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he was already scarred for life. "We're sorry to ask this of you, but it's for their own safety, not to keep them in the dark."

"Then why am I being told?"'

Remus turned to him with a tired smile. "Because we're going ask you for a favor, but first you need to know why."

"Did you tell him what we're up against, Tonks?" asked Moody. "Because if not, I'll be glad to do it myself."

"I just told him who and why we're fighting," she answered and proceeded to turn her hair a dark blue. "We were a little pressed for time, you see."

Sirius turned to him before Moody could speak again. "Remember what I told you and the other three last year about what it was like when Voldemort was in power?" Kenshin nodded. "When he shows himself, through that image out the window and imagine something much worse."

"Yes," said Severus, "even now he's gathering followers while staying hidden, making the wizarding world believe that Potter is a liar and Dumbledore is insane. You've seen your share of war…you should know what it's like to walk the streets, afraid for your life even if everyone you meet greets you with a smile. That is the world he will create."

"Voldemort has two main advantages right now," said Moody. "He was something he didn't have last time and the Ministry's disbelief gives him time to mass an even larger army than before, regain his old followers, and think up ways to take over our government. When he comes out, he'll strike fear into as many people as possible and it'll become messy. We're restricted in what we can do for now, all because the Minister of Magic is a fool who's afraid of his own shadow. The Ministry is as much our enemy as Voldemort until they see reason."

"I'm confused," said Kenshin. "How do I come into all of this?"

There was a stretch of silence. Finally: "Dumbledore told us to ask you," said Sirius, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair, "to—how should I put this?—lend us your rather…unique skills."

What little emotion the kid kept in his face was wiped away. "Why? What can I do?"

"I still think is this a bad idea," muttered Molly under her breath as Minerva said, "In a few ways actually. The first is rather straight forward: The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts this year. They have sent in a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dolores Umbridge. Out of every student in Hogwarts, even those with parents in the Ministry, you're the one who understands the most about government and conspiracies. The teachers will be watching—Severus and I especially—her, but we need a student as well."

"And you have a different view on government than us," added Sirius. "A bit of a darker mindset than the rest us want to think of. That will help you. And I've met this woman before—you'll hate her on sight, trust me. Looks a bit like a toad."

"With a bow in her hair that looks like a fly," said Tonks. "And she does this kid-voice that grates on your nerves like they're cheese."

"What?"

"Never mind, it's an expression," said Remus before Tonks could explain and get them off subject. "According to Dumbledore, she won't be informed of your…identity in Japan."

"As in she won't hear the media story that I'm a cold-blooded killer, right?" the kid said bluntly. Remus nodded. "I suppose that's fine. And the other ways?"

"This part isn't a favor," said Arthur, "and in any other circumstances would be completely illogical, but Dumbledore has given you permission to carry your sword around school, as long as it's invisible. This is for the off chance that Death Eater will be able to infiltrate the castle…I doubt that will happen, but I suppose all cautions are necessary."

"Just don't attack anyone, boy," said Moody, "or it'll be me you're answering to."

"I don't want to attack anyone. But I will if I have to." He bit his bottom lip. "I won't have to…kill anyone, right?"

"No," said Tonks firmly. "Killing someone is not needed."

"But," said Severus, "if you deem it a last resort, then you have to."

"And the last way," said Sirius, "is actually about Harry. To put it bluntly, he's in danger, which is way I believe he should be told."

"He's underage!" said Molly immediately. "He does not need to be told. Yes, Kenshin here is underage as well, but he's dealt with worse than what we're asking him. Harry, on the other hand, is no comparison. He's seen what no one should ever see, but that makes him too quick to act and I don't want to see him be hurt!"

Sirius opened his mouth to argue back, but Remus quickly cut them off. "Anyway!" he said loudly, causing the two to shut up, "the last favor is that you please try to discourage Harry from doing anything drastic. But he's very stubborn and if it seems impossible, making sure you go with him—for the safety of him and everyone around him."

"So you want me to act as bodyguard, basically?"

"Not exactly," said Kinsley, "it's more that you help rather than guard. Do you accept?"

A pause. A very long pause. Then: "He's going to kill me, but sure, I'll help. But I hope you realize you're dealing with someone mentally unstable."

"Dumbledore _did _mention something like that," said Tonks, "but he said to have faith in you."

Kenshin mumbled something under his breath, but Remus couldn't understand; though, honestly, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to. The boy nodded. "Can I go see the others now, please?"

"Of course," said Arthur. "Meeting concluded." Everyone stood, a few people pausing to say sorry to the kid before they left. "Kenshin, if you're hungry, just come down later. We'll leave something out. Remus, do you mind showing him upstairs to his room…You too, Sirius? I want to speak to Molly in private."

"I'll see you later," Kenshin said awkwardly to the Weasleys. Molly came over and squished him into a hug.

"Oro!"

"I'm terribly sorry," she said, releasing him. "You're such a nice, polite boy too…I never would have expected…well, I suppose it's in the past now. Please don't mention this to the others."

"I won't," he answered. "I promise."

"Okay…well, go on then."

Remus and Sirius, just as told, led him outside the room. "Are you really okay with this?" Sirius asked immediately. Kenshin nodded mutely.

"Listen," said Remus with a sigh. "Don't try to think about it too much. Both us—" He motioned back and forth between he and his friend—"know what it's like to do something you'd rather not."

"As long as I don't have to kill anyone, I'm fine." The murderer who didn't like killing. What an odd irony. Oh, but he knew what it was like—he hated being a werewolf, and yet he was stuck with his own "kind". But, as James used to say, _If life gives you lemons, spray the juice in your enemy's eyes. _Though rather than 'your enemy' he would say Snivellus."As long as I don't need to break a promise I made to someone, I'm all right."

"Well…that's good to hear, I suppose," Sirius said. "Listen, I normally don't say this to anyone who isn't Harry or Remus here, but if you need someone to talk to since you aren't allowed to talk to them, then write to me."

"Or me," added Remus. "Letters going to and from Japan take a long time I imagine. And you'll have to contact us anyway, for updates. You can't talk to the teachers at the school because Umbridge will probably hear."

"Does she really look like a toad?"

Sirius laughed. "We may have given you warning, but you'll be highly disturbed when you see…and she's even shorter than you."

"H-hey! I know I'm short, but I'm not _that _short."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, don't worry. But she honestly is shorter than you."

"Well, here's the room," said Remus and knocked gently, so as not the wake any of the creepy-crawly things in this house. "You're sharing with Harry and Ron."

It was Hermione to open the door, her face brightening the moment she saw him. "Kenshin!" She threw her arms around his neck, causing him to blush and a moment of so hug her back. Young love? Well, they would make a nice couple, he supposed. "Y-you're here! Oh, what happened to your arm? Are you hurt?"

"Bye, kid," said Sirius, ruffling his hair. "C'mon, Moony, let's leave the kids alone."

"Yeah…" With a small wave the kids crowded in the doorway, he turned around and left, hearing laughter from the room.

--------

Later that week, the four of them were scrubbing hard at mold in an unused room of the house—many of the rooms were unused. Some Hermione had no idea what their purpose was in the first place. This one, though, had apparently been a bedroom at one point.

"There's so much mold here!" said Ron, rubbing furiously at a particularly difficult patch. "You're lucky you don't have to do this because of your arm, Kenshin! I can't believe my mom let you away with this because she thought it would go infected. All you have to do is sweep the floor."

The other redheaded boy just grinned. "I suppose injuries _do _come in handy sometimes. Though when you first get them they aren't fun…I got about seven scars from this summer alone."

"How?" asked Harry.

"Is that what happened to your arms and legs?" said Hermione. "All those little scrapes, I mean."

"Yeah," he answered, sweeping the dust into catcher, which gobbled it up. "I was sparring with my teacher one day, and, well, something went wrong. End result was that I sliced him in the arm and he hit me so hard sideways that I rolled down a hill and into the stream. Hurt a lot, as you can imagine."

"What could have _possibly _gone that badly?" said Hermione. A piece of mold latched itself onto her palm. With the help of Harry, she was able to pry it off.

"I miscalculated a jump," he said, leaning on the broom and looking around the room. Hermione followed his gaze and saw that there was only mold left; his job was done. "I was about to spear myself with his sword, so he hit me out of the way with more strength then he meant to put into it. It hurt. A lot."

"I can imagine," said Ron. "Why won't this mold get off!"

"Still not finished?" Mrs. Weasley said, entering the room.

"I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break!" said Ron. Oh, honestly, he was so lazy. Then again, she had to admit that the sight of mold was starting to sicken her. Especially when it was magical mold that could jump on tightly and cling. "D'you know how much mold we've got rid of since we arrive here?"

"You were so keen to help the Order," said Mrs. Weasley, "you can do your bit by making headquarters fit to live in. Kenshin," she added, turning to him. "is your arm okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, it's fine. Don't worry about it Mrs. Weasley." He gave a tentative smile. "You can check it later, though, if you want to make sure."

"Okay, well, come down when you're done," she said and left, leaving them alone with the mold again.

"I feel like a house-elf," mumbled Ron, going back to his rigorous attack on the offending green stuff. A idea suddenly game into Hermione's head, causing her to smile widely.

"Well, now you that you understand what dreadful lives they lead, perhaps be a bit more active in S.P.E.W!" she said cheerfully. "You know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to show people exactly how horrible it is to clean all the time—we could do a sponsored scrub of Gryffindor common room, all proceeds to S.P.E.W, it help raise awareness as well as funds—"

"Hermione," said Kenshin, cutting her off. She stopped, surprised; he was the kind of person who generally waited until a person was done speaking. "It's better to have a magical creature who _likes _doing the work than have a human do it. If something or someone doesn't mind cleaning and serving others for free, let them have a job. Someone unwilling will be given the work, then. Trust me, it's better this way."

Slightly taken-aback, she frowned and said, "But they don't _actually _like it, they're just re—"

"Drop it, Hermione," said Harry quietly. She paused midsentence when she saw her other friend's face—she hadn't seen him that blank in a while. Strange. What thought could mention of a house-elf bring up to cause that? It was like slavery was all that existent now-a-days, so it couldn't be that…."Come on, I think we're done anyway. Ron, you finished?"

"Yes!" he said, standing up like he was electrocuted. "Let's go get lunch!"

Kenshin bolted out the room faster than the eye can see. She followed him immediately and ended up catching up to him at the end of the stairs, where he'd slowed.

"I'm sorry," she said, grabbing his arm even if he'd already stopped. "I'm not quite sure what I said, but I'm sorry."

"That's fine," he said with a smile. "It's a long story." Why did he always have to answer that?

She loosened the grip on his arm, linking them elbow and elbow instead. Pretending not to see his blush, she said, "You never said anything last year or I would have…"

"It's fine," he repeated. "I shouldn't even let it get to me, but I've been a little stressed out lately."

"Why? What's wrong?" Oh, she didn't care if she was prying—if something was wrong, then she could help. "I know you like to keep to yourself, but you _can _tell us—Harry, Ron, and I—if something's bothering. I mean, we're friends, right?"

After a moment of obvious hesitation (which made her even more worried), he nodded. "It's just that while England, I'd forgotten for the most part what it was like to be treated like some evil _thing_. And then when I went back to Japan, it hit me full force. I'm still all over the news. No one can exactly say it's me per say, but the react anyway. I guess I was hoping it would die down, but it didn't. I was just kidding myself. At least Katsura's kept my picture out of the media or my life would go to hell."

"Oh yeah!" she said, remembering something she wanted to tell him. "I found out earlier this summer that I got the meaning of your name wrong. The 'Hitokiri' part means man-slayer. The Battousai has means 'master of battojutsu'. I was confused because while I knew it referred to the sword style, I thought that was where the slayer part came in or something. I only knew from the television, where they called you Battousai the Man-Slayer. Can you see where I made the mistake?"

Kenshin nodded. "Yeah, I was confused too. I earned the name, though, because the assassinations showed different angles and speed, most of which implied I'd drawn my sword right before the attack…which was a true. I know every possible battojutsu. But same…when you said they slayer part, I thought I referred to the sword too."

Though she would never say it directly to him, she found his history absolutely fascinating. Horrifying, yes, but fascinating beyond belief. And now that she knew him up in person, it was twice as much. It really showed the different sides of a person. Honestly, though, she wished she knew more about him. It was unfair, really, to be friends with someone so closed inside himself.

"Look…" he said after a moment of silence. "Mrs. Weasley wanted to look at my cut. I'll meet up with you later, okay?"

"Oh, um, okay," she said, feeling extremely disappointed when he untangled his arm from hers and walked away, slipping through the door to that pallor. With a sigh and a headshake, she turned around and went to the kitchen, wondering if she'd ever figure him out.

------------

Despite the amount of people who dropped in and out of Grimmauld Place, it was rare to all have them in the same place, at the same time. At the moment, a good twelve of those people were crowded into the kitchen, celebrating Ron and Hermione as the new Gryffindor prefects. Awkwardly, Kenshin was stuck standing there, not sure how to jump into any conversation and everyone so engaged in each other to bother to engage in him. Occasionally someone bumped into him, but it they only stopped for a quickly sorry. And, naturally, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were all caught up in other business.

When he saw Harry heading for the door, though, he took it as his chance and followed.

"Hi," he said, causing the other boy to jumped. "Oh, uh, sorry."

"Don't _do _that." Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "You scared me."

Kenshin gave a guilty smile. "Yeah…I have a tendency to do that a lot."

"That's what you get for being so quiet! So where are you going?"

"Back to the room…you?"

"Same. Why're you?"

"Tired and I don't like being with a lot of people. You know that. I saw Moody show you something right before you left. Was that why you left?"

"Yeah, it was stupid…He showed me a picture of the original Order of the Phoenix and, I don't know, it weirded me out a bit because he was telling me how some of them died or disappeared or had something else horrible happen to them. Then he showed me my parents and, well, er, pathetic, right?"

Kenshin shrugged. "Not really."

A noise suddenly floated down the corridor to them. "Do you hear that? It sounds a bit like crying." Harry asked. Kenshin nodded. Together they went silently to the drawing room, where the sound was coming from. "Hello?"

Mrs. Weasley was kneeling in the corner of the room, wand held out, Ron sprawled out in front of her. Dead. Kenshin's head stopped, his brain ceasing to work, even as his mind told him that, no, Ron was downstairs, he was at a party, happy. So what the…?

"Mrs. Weasley?" said Harry beside him, voice shaking.

"_R-riddikulus!" _Mrs. Weasley pointed her at the body and with a _crack _it turned into Bill. A boggart. Kenshin sighed with relief. "_R-riddikulus!_" Mr. Weasley. "NO!"

"Wait—Mrs. Weasley—" Harry began, but Kenshin cut him off.

"Hey, I'll deal with it," he said and slipping into the room, ignoring Harry's warning. "Mrs. Weasley," he said softly, coming up behind her as dead Bill turned into dead twins who turned into dead Harry, "it's not real. They're downstairs, alive." When she didn't react, he moved in front of her, hoping that by seeing him, she'd snap out of it.

The result was instantaneous—the moment he was closer to the boggart than she was, she and Harry screamed. On instinct he turned around, hand going to the katana he didn't have. He froze, though, mid-movement, all thought shutting down. His breathing stopped. Everything disappeared expect for one thing. In that second, he forgot it wasn't real.

Tomoe was staring at the ceiling, lifeless eyes looking seeing nothing. Her clothes were splattered with blood, her black hair matted with it, her side nearly cleaved off of her. The blood was spreading up to touch his socks. Her brown eyes, they were so cold. Slowly her head turned to the side, her dead gaze fixated on him instead. Vaguely, he heard someone run up behind him, but he couldn't heard what was said, barely even realizing anything came him either.

"M-mom!"

Her mouth opened and her words came like a breath exhaled:

"_You killed me._"

His world went black.

* * *

Translations

Chuui harau: Pay attention

Sumimasen deshita: Sorry, the way to say it to an authority figure

Ohayou: Good morning

Kochira wa Lupin-san desu: This is Mr. Lupin

Kochirakoso douzo yoroshiku onegai shimasu: Nice to meet you


	3. Chapter 3

YAY! FINALS ARE FINISHED!!!!! Sorry, yes, so anyway. This chapter is really weird and entirely told in Kenshin's point of view. Because of finals, I've wanted to kill someone all week and you can totally tell that in this chapter. Bashing Umbridge was so much fun. Rotten sugar...And Kenshin has a lot of dialogue this chapter. I don't know, this whole thing is weird. Oh, and I saved Harry the embarrassment of Cho, you'll see what I mean.

I don't own HP or RK.

* * *

Chapter Three

"Kenshin! Kenshin!"

"Hey, come on, kid, wake up…"

"Why the bloody hell did he pass out in the first place?"

"Ronald, watch your tongue!"

"It's only been a few minutes, we shouldn't panic."

Slowly, Kenshin slide back into awareness, the mush of voices become more defined until he could hear actual words. His eyes fluttered up and instantly he shut them again, blinded by the bright light above him. After a moment, he dared to open them. All the members of the party were standing over him. Shaking, he pushed himself up to sitting position. He was on a bed. Someone had moved him.

"Easy, Kenshin, easy," said Fred, putting his hand on his back to help him. "Don't push yourself." What an un-Fred-like thing to say. Kenshin rubbed his eye. His cheek felt stiff and his head hurt. Great, just dandy. His face had bled again! Why did this keep happening to him?

"What happened?" asked Sirius as Mrs. Weasley put a hand to his forehead.

"No fever…"

"Lupin, Harry, and Mom told us the boggart turned into a dead woman and you passed out," said Ginny.

"You said 'Okaasan'," said Harry, "Was does that mean?" Dazed, Kenshin looked around him, not sure how to react to all the questions fired at him.

"I've gotten rid it," said Lupin. "The boggart, I mean. That woman…it was quite the frightening sight."

"You're allowed to say something," said Hermione, reaching up to brush some hair from his face.

"Molly, maybe some of us should leave," said Mr. Weasley quietly. If his hearing weren't so good, Kenshin wouldn't have heard him. "Maybe the rest of us…let's just leave the Harry, Ron, and Hermione."

"Are you sure?" asked Mrs. Weasley anxiously, voice equally as low. Hermione moved his hair aside again, but he was just concentrating on breathing normally and nor descending into a panic attack. The scene was still fresh in his mind. "He still looks a little peckish and there was so much blood…"

"I think it's for the best, dear."

Through what seemed like telepathic-adult-talk, everyone but the kids filled out of the room. Mrs. Weasley tapped the twins and Ginny on the shoulders and motion for them to follow. When Tonks, the last one, left, the door shut loudly behind her. Down below, Mistress Black started to scream her head off. He pulled his knees up to his chest and pressed his head against them.

"Who was that?" Hermione asked softly, moving her hand in circles over his back. He tried to keep from shaking—he hadn't expected that, to have to thrown at him so suddenly.

At least last year, on the day she died, he was thinking about it already. But not today. Today it wasn't even a thought, but literally _her_. An imitation, but still her form. Still the form of the woman he killed by accident, who didn't deserve die. He'd tried so hard to protect her, but he was ultimately the one who ended up murdering her.

"It was my mom," he said into his knees, holding the waver back from his voice. "She…died when I was eleven."

"Wait," said Ron after a moment, "I thought your parents died when you were four and that you were already the Battousai by the time you were eleven. And she was American…"

"My blood mom…Allison and Makoto Himura never died," he said, lifting his head from the safety of his knees so they could hear him, but still looking down. He couldn't get around it anymore; he'd have to tell at least some of it. "At I don't think so. I'm not sure. I haven't seen them since I was four…that's a story for a different time. The woman the boggart turned into was twenty-seven-year-old Tomoe Yukishiro, Tomoe Himura when she died.

"I met her in the rain one night. I…well, Choushuu had informants everywhere. One was at a restaurant, working in the bar area that night. Katsura gave me a coded note for an order and sent me to pick it up. While I was there, there were these two drunk guys acting like complete _idiots_, tormenting this girl so I told them to stop. After I left I ran into this other person sent to shoot me and when I killed him, she saw…and passed out from shock.

"So I brought her back to headquarters and I expected her to leave the next day, but she didn't. She stayed and worked there and-and, I don't know…she treated me like an actual person. Most people didn't, so I trusted her automatically. When a traitor gave away our information and we were attacked, we were forced to scatter. We were told to go to a safe house and live as mother and son until we heard news and came back. It wasn't long after we moved in that she asked to adopt me…it was after I slipped up and called her mom when it was just the two of us.

"One day though—" He wiped his eyes with the back of his eyes, cursing himself as he felt the burn of tears on his face, wetting the bandage. He hadn't talked about this in two years and had been trying so hard to bury the worst parts of it. And now here he was, crying in front of friends he withheld so much information from. What a pathetic person he was. "I woke up to find her gone. It was February twenty-fifth, I'd lived with her for five months. I knew immediately that something was wrong because she always woke up after me. I don't want to talk about what happened after that…basically, I went after her. While trying to get to her I-I lost my hearing, my eyesight, my sense of touch, and my intuition. I don't know why, but she either put herself in front of me or the person I was up against pulled her there as a shield. No matter how she got there, I didn't know and I killed them both. I didn't know, I honestly didn't. By the time she fell, I'd regained a little bit of my eyesight and was able to catch her. She said something, but I don't know what it was. All I know is that she smiled, but I can't understand why. And right before she died, she gave me the second cut on my face, completing the X-shaped scar I'm so famous for." He ran his fingers through his hair.

"I found out later that she, along with another person I'd thought liked me at least a little, had been conspiring together to have me killed. Iizuka, the other person, and my mo—Tomoe both treated me like I was a person, so I trusted them because I was so young I just wanted to be liked. I'd killed her fiancé about two months before I met her, he's the one who gave me the first cut down my face, one of the first to ever hurt me. But by the time it was a few weeks in, she didn't want to kill me anymore and wanted to keep me alive instead, I can't imagine why. I never thought…I generally prefer not to think about that, any of it. But the X on my face keeps bleeding and it won't let me. S-so now you know."

He wiped his eyes again, taking at least a solace in the fact that he hadn't done anything more than shed a _few _tears rather than sobbed like the first time when he told his master. Silence filled the room. He coughed. The movement of Hermione's hand on his back had ceased a while ago.

"Is she the person," said Harry quietly, "you made the promise never to kill to?"

Kenshin gave a small nod, using his hair to shadow his eyes. "But she's also the person I promised I'd live for…so the promise became 'unless direly necessary'. I'm hoping it's a never though."

"I-I'm so sorry," said Hermione, moving her hand from his back to put around his shoulders instead. "That's horrible."

"Don't feel bad for me," he said flatly. "It's my own fault in the first place. I wasn't thinking. I know it's no excuse, but the moment I lost my hearing—my first real sense to go—I panicked and started moving on instinct. I rely a lot on my hearing, more than my other senses anyway. Have can we…get off this subject until later?"

"Yeah, of course," said Ron quickly, "Do you feel okay enough to get up and go downstairs?"

"We'll make sure the others don't pester you," added Harry.

"C'mon," said Hermione, getting off the bed and grabbing his hands, pulling him up. He stumbled into her, causing him to blush as he straightened himself.

"Sorry…a head rush."

"Oh, no it's fine…"

-------

Once the rather large group of people had reached Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Kenshin was pulled aside by Lupin, who looked very tired and very worn out.

"Are you still okay with this?" he asked as Kenshin leaned back against a wall. He nodded mutely. "Just making sure. I know it isn't particularly difficult and at the moment the idea of anything happening seems impossible, but it must be stressing you out."

Kenshin just nodded again, not sure what else to do—there was no point in lying. And what happened with the day before was still weighing heavily on his mind. "So how exactly do I watch her?" he asked.

Lupin shrugged. "It's up to you. Get a detention if you have to…just nothing drastic. But listen, to communicate with us, you'll be writing in code and to either Tonks or me. It's been decided that it'll be the least suspicious to pretend we're the family that's taken you in when you come early for the summer or to stay over the break. In a way, the summer part wasn't entirely a lie this year."

"What's the code?"

"Nothing terribly complicated. It'll be about your school year and we'll read between the lines. Call me Remus, okay? Tonks can stay Tonks." He nodded again. Lupin—no, Remus now, he reminded himself—sighed. The train's whistle blew. "The train's about to leave, so I suggest you find your friends and get on it. I have one question, though, and then I also suggest that you don't think it until you have to."

"What is it?" he asked, turning away, scanning the crowd for his friends. Through the mass of people, he spotted the vivid hair of the Weasleys.

"Your boggart…who was it? I don't need the story, I'm only curious."

"My mother," he answered. "I, uh, well, goodbye. I'll write to you tomorrow or Monday, after I see the new teacher."

"Okay," Remus said. "Your mother, hm? Well, she must have been very happy to have you as a son."

Kenshin paused a moment before answering, mulling over the statement. "Yeah," he said with a small smile, remembering when she offered to adopt him and the incredulous look she'd given him when he said he thought she didn't like him. "I guess she was." With that he walked away, making sure to turn around and wave right before he slipped onto the train and forced himself through the crowd until he reached the Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"Hello," he said, causing all four of them to jump. "Sorry."

"Where were you?" asked Ron immediately. "We were looking everywhere for you."

"Lupin wanted to talk to me," he said. "It's a long story, I'll tell you later."

"Well, all right," said Hermione, "we'll see you later."

"Later?" Harry said, looking to her. "Aren't you coming with us?"

She shifted awkwardly. "We're—well—Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," she said. Kenshin felt his heart sink a little; he'd been looking forward to the four of them, like the year before. Ron looked away.

"Oh," said Harry. "Right. Fine."

"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," said Hermione. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time."

"Fine. Well, I—I might see you later, then."

"Definitely," said Ron. "It's a pain having to go down there, I'd rather—but we have to—I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy."

"I know you're not."

"Bye, see you later," Kenshin said. "We'll go…find a compartment."

"Come on," said Ginny as the other two walked away, "if we get a move on we'll be able to save them places."

"Right," said Harry. Together the three of them walked down the corridor, peering through the glass opening of compartments. The majority of the people stared straight back at Harry, Kenshin noted.

"Ignore them," he said after a while. "You get used to it. They're not worth your time, anyway."

"Yeah, I know." Even so, he sounded doubtful. They reached the final carriage, where Neville Longbottom, the boy who melted six cauldrons in the course of one week, was standing. One hand was poised on the handle of the compartment door, the other clutching a struggling frog.

"Hi, Harry, Kenshin," he said, slightly out of breath, "Hi, Ginny…I was just about to get in…this compartment's open…only Luna…"

"Who's Luna?" Kenshin asked, but Neville opened the compartment before anyone could answer.

The girl beside was very strange—if that was even a good way to put it. Her hair was blonde, messy, and long, her eyebrows pale, blue eyes large. Around her neck was a necklace of bottle caps. Behind her left ear she kept her wand. The magazine she was reading was held upside down.

"Hi, Luna," said Ginny. "Is it okay if we sit here?" The pale girl nodded and looked around.

"Hello, Neville," she said serenely as he took the seat to her.

"Hello," he answered. "Did you have a good summer?"

"Yes, it was quite enjoyable you know." Her eyes drifted over to Harry, who was sitting on the across from her. "_You're _Harry Potter," she said.

"I know I am," he said. Her gaze switched to Kenshin next to him. He stiffened. How was it that he _still _wasn't good with meeting new people? It would never change would it? Then again, she was very…different than many of the other people he'd met. That could be a contributing factor.

"And you're the transfer student from Japan…"

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I am."

"And this is Luna Lovegood," said Ginny. "Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw. She went with Neville to the ball last year." Neville's face reddened.

"_Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_," said Luna in a dreamy voice, then proceeded to go and hid herself behind her upside down magazine. What a bizarre girl.

"Guess what I got for my birthday?" said Neville.

Kenshin turned his attention to him, pulling his legs up so he sitting cross-legged on the seat. His katana was at his waist, and sitting that way made it more comfortable than letting his legs dangle for some reason. While the others weren't looking, he adjusted it so it sat behind his back. Hopefully Harry wouldn't feel the need to move himself any time soon or he'd bang straight into it.

"Another Remembrall?" said Harry.

"What's a Remembrall?" Kenshin asked.

"It's this circular-thing," said Ginny, "that has red smoke inside of it when you forget something. Neville had one in his first year apparently…"

"I told you about it, remember, when I was explaining how I got on the Gryffindor team?"

"Oh yeah!"

"So, _was _it another Remembrall?" said Harry.

"No," said Neville happily, "I could do with one, though, I lost it ages ago…No, look at this…"

He dug through his bag, dragging out what appeared to be a small cactus with blisters. Kenshin inched away.

"_Mimbulus mimbletonia_," he said, beaming. "It's really, really rare. I don't know if there's one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even. I can't wait to show it to Professor Sprout. My great-uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria. I'm going to see if I could breed it."

Why anyone would want to breed a blistered cactus was completely beyond him, but he decided it would be rude to comment. It looked like a liver with sores on it. Oh well, if Neville thought it was pretty, it was up to him…

"Does it—er—do anything?" Harry asked. Kenshin took this as his cue to start inching to the side.

"Loads of stuff!" said Neville proudly. "It's got an amazing defensive mechanism—hold Trevor for me…"

After he dumped his pet unceremoniously into Harry's lap, he pulled a quill out of his bag and held the sharp edge level with one of the blisters. Luna looked up. Kenshin inched away even further. Neville jabbed.

It was impossible to say what happened next. After all, the small redhead saw none of it, instead making it out of the compartment and shutting the door just in time. So he came out completely clean. It was a gift of his apparently—whether it was blood or whatever the hell that blistered cactus had released. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Er, excuse me?" said a voice beside him. He looked up. Cho Chang, the girl his friend had asked to the ball the year before, was standing there. "Is Harry Potter in there?"

"Hm?" he said and then realized that Cho probably wanted to_ talk_ to Harry, which would be bad, considering the other boy was currently covered in magical cactus juice. "Oh, uh, yeah, Harry's in there, um—" How to delay, how to delay? "—I'm Kenshin," he said quickly, holding his hand. "Kenshin Himura, Harry's friend. Nice to meet you."

She blinked slightly in surprised and shook his hand. "Cho Chang, I'm in Ravenclaw…you're the one who transferred last year, right? From Japan?" Kenshin nodded. "You really _are _Asian…oh! Sorry, that was rude. I just mean to say, um, well—"

"Yeah, the red hair generally throws people off, makes them think I just live there with my parents or something." _Please let them have cleaned it off, this is awkward! _"But no, I'm actually Japanese, just with red hair and blue eyes. Heh." There was an uncomfortable pause. He moved away from the door. "Well, uh, here you go."

Luckily when she opened the compartment door, the magical cactus juice was gone. Mind, he was still sitting with Luna Lovegood which must not look to good, but Harry would just have to make do. And his friend should _really _thank him later, considering that Kenshin forced himself through a very uncomfortable situation to help him. Even if it hadn't lasted very long.

"H-hello, Harry," said Cho as Kenshin slid past her and back into his seat. His katana painfully hit his side, causing him to wince, but no one noticed.

"Oh, hello, Cho," Harry answered. A pause where no one knew what to say. "Well, do you want to sit down?"

"Is that okay?" she asked. He nodded. She took the seat across from here. "I can only stay for a few minutes, I have to meet up with my friend again, I just want to say hello…"

"Well, er, did you have a good holiday?"

"Yes, it was good," she answered, then came another pause, as if she was trying to figure out what to say. Silence filled the compartment. It wasn't a very good way to start a conversation, in Kenshin's opinion—not that he started enough conversations to judge in the first place. "How about yours?"

"Same," Harry said. "It was good, I guess, spent the end of it with some friends."

"Yeah, I spent the last few weeks with Marietta at her grandfather's house in France…how about you?"

"With my g—" Ginny jabbed him hard in the side "—the Weasleys, Hermione, and Kenshin at the Weasleys."

"That sounds like fun…"

Yet another long silence.

"Well," said Cho, standing, "I should probably get back to my friends, they'll be wondering where I am…I'll see you later, Harry."

"Yeah, see you later…Cho." They smiled at each other one last time before she left, shutting the door gently behind her.

Immediately Ginny started laughing, taking away from the awkward feel that was still left hanging in the room. "See you later…Cho," she said airily, clasping her hands together and staring dramatically out the window. Kenshin laughed as well and even Harry joined in. Neville looked confused and Luna wasn't paying attention.

"I was _not _like that," said Harry after they'd stopped, shaking his head.

"It was," Kenshin said. "Honestly."

"Oh yeah!" said Neville, looking to him. "Hey, where were you? One second you were there and the next you were gone!"

"I ran outside," he said, "so I didn't get sprayed."

"_That _fast?"

"I didn't see you move," said Luna in her usual dreamy tone. "It was rather impressive. I wish I could move that fast…I think it would be fun."

"I was right by the door, it wasn't all that impressive."

The conversation turned after that and it was a while before Ron and Hermione came back. Immediately Ron grabbed some food and tore open the wrapper. They both looked exhausted. Hermione took a seat next to Kenshin. He gave her a little smile, but she didn't even turn to him, annoyance coming off of her in waves. On an instinct created from an early age, he shrunk back—then of course, he realized it was rather irrational, as it _Hermione_.

"Well," she said, crossing her arms, "there are two fifth-year prefects from each House. Boy and girl from each."

"And guess who's a Slytherin prefect?" said Ron.

"Malfoy," said Harry immediately. Kenshin swore under his breath. Naturally, naturally, he should've seen it coming.

"'Course," said Ron, taking more food.

"And that complete _cow _Pansy Parkinson," said Hermione. "How she got to be a prefect when she's thicker than a concussed troll…"

"Then Snape picked, obviously," said Kenshin, leaning back against the compartment wall. "His favorite and his favorite's girlfriend."

"True, true…"

"Who's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot," said Ron.

"And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," added Hermione.

Then Luna said, "You went to the Yule ball with Padma Patil." Everyone turned to look at her.

"Yeah," said Ron, surprised, "I know I did."

"She didn't enjoy it very much. She doesn't think you treated her very well, because you wouldn't dance with her." Luna went back to reading. How could one person by so…strange? Then again, who was he to talk?

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," he said once the surprise had worn off, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something…"

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!" said Hermione, sitting up straighter.

"Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all," said Ron dryly. Kenshin gave himself a quick, small smile, knowing that the pale boy wouldn't try much.

"So you're going to descend to his level?"

"No, I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine."

"For heaven's sake, Ron—"

He ignored her, saying, "I'll make Goyle do lines, it'll kill him, he hates writing." He lowered his voiced and contorted his faced to give it a look of extreme concentration, and motioned like he was writing in the air. "_I…must…not…look…like…a…baboon's…backside…_"

Everyone laughed except for Kenshin. Though he supposed it must have been very funny, he didn't know what a baboon was, taking away from the humor. No one noticed, though, as they were all staring at Luna, who didn't stop laughing. In fact, she went on so long it was amazing she didn't pass out from lack of air. Tears ran down her face. Her magazine fell to the floor. Harry leaned down to pick it up. Kenshin turned to Hermione.

"Um," he said, "what's a baboon?"

She looked at him, blinked, then nodded to herself. "It's like a monkey…just worse."

"Oh," he said and ran his fingers through his hair. "So, um…"

"So what's been going on in here before we came?" she asked, sparing him the task of starting the conversation.

"Nothing really. We were introduced to Luna and Neville showed up this plant that he got for his birthday. I can't pronounce what it's called. It looks a little like that plant that's found in the desert, but it has blisters instead of spikes. Do you know what it is?"

"Well, the desert plant is called a cactus," she said, "but I have no idea what the other plant is. I'll ask him later."

"Well, anyway," he continued, "Neville got the bright idea to poke it and it sprayed everyone with this sticky juice that's its defense mechanism or something. I avoided it, though, ran outside before it could hit me…met Cho Chang out there, she came to talk to Harry. I delayed her to save him the embarrassment of her seeing him covered in whatever it was. So that was really awkward…and then she left…and that about sums it up."

"That sounds rather, well, not quite boring, I can't think of the word. Not fun, I suppose."

"Yeah, it really wasn't."

They were interrupted when the compartment door slid opened. In stepped Malfoy, all swagger and arrogance, dripping confidence. Kenshin looked to him blankly, knowing he couldn't do much, _wouldn't _do much, though he might try.

"What?" Harry snapped immediately, not giving the other boy a chance to speak.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," said Malfoy, lazy in his tone. He was so annoying. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishment."

"And we, unlike you," said Kenshin the usual flat tone he had when talking to anyone the killer part of his messed up mind screamed to get rid, "don't care. Do us a favor and leave. There's no point in handing out detentions, you should know that."

Malfoy faltered for a moment, but it was barely noticeable. But his heart wasn't in his words anymore; he was scared. "And who are you to say that, Himura? I don't need to take orders from someone who can't even pronounce my name. I said it last year: You're all talk, you won't do anything. If you can, then prove it. I can do more than you—all I need to do is spill a few pieces of information."

"I see you have selective memory, then," Ron said, jumping to his defense, "because you see to be forgetting that we all cursed you five ways to Tuesday."

"And," Kenshin added quietly, "what I said. Don't bother, you can't win. Get out of here. Let this be your final warning."

Malfoy left as if the devil was on his heels, Crabbe and Goyle following him. Hermione got up and slammed the door behind him.

"Oh, the _nerve _of him," she said, shaking her head. "There are some people in the world who are honestly stupid and he is one of them." The headache that came was mild compared to some of the others he'd gotten. He wanted to get to the school and go to sleep.

"That boy wasn't very nice," said Luna, "I wonder what he was talking about…" And yet, unlike most people, she didn't ask. Neville didn't either. When Kenshin looked out the window, he caught the boy's reflection. He turned, confused, to see his face a mix between admiration and fear.

"We'd better get changed," said Hermione after a while. They followed her advice, pulling their robes on with difficulty in the small space. It was especially difficult for Kenshin, who had to attach the katana to his waist without hitting anyone. The length of the katana didn't help matters.

As the train began to slow, the expected chaos started. Ron and Hermione left. Ginny picked up Crookshanks and Luna grabbed Pig. At last they left, heading off to the school, and the first step into fresh air was like heaven after being cramped into one place for so long. If he were the type of person to do so, he'd dance around in a circle out of joy.

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry said.

"What do you mean?" Kenshin asked as Ginny said, "I don't know, but we'd better get out of the way we're blocking the door."

"Hagrid always takes the first years to the castle," said Harry as they moved, walking towards the carriages. "He did last year, you know that, he'd done it every year he's there."

"I'm sure he's fine," said Kenshin, even as some horrible part of him told him that might not be true. "Come on, we'll find out—what's wrong?"

Harry had stopped, staring at once of the horses that was there the year before and (Kenshin assumed) all years before that, like he'd never seen them before. He frowned. Ron, who showed up moments later, seemed to have no idea what he was talking about.

"You didn't know they were there?" Kenshin said, materializing next to him as their friend entered the carriage. "They were there last year."

"Really?" he asked as Luna said from behind them, "I've always been able to see them, don't worry, you aren't going mad or anything…you're just as sane as I am." She stepped in after Ginny. Harry looked to him. He just shrugged.

"Don't look at me, I have no idea," he said and they entered, silently agreeing not to mention it again.

-------------

As they entered the quiet Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on Monday afternoon and took their seats, Professor Umbridge stood up, saying, "Well, good afternoon!" A few mumbles were all she received in reply. "Tut, tut," she went on, "_That's _won't do, now will it? It should like you, please, to reply, 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," answered the class, as instructed. This was…this was…this was preschool!

"There now," she said, in her sweetly condescending voice. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please." The class put them away and feel of foreboding fell about the room.

What she said next and instructed next set up the standards for the year—boring, unless, and unchallenging, not to mention that they would be treated like children. It was a very difficult thing to annoy him, but she had done the sure-fire of way succeeding: Talking down to him. And he wasn't the only person who thought that way apparently. It appeared many people shared his view that they should be treated like they had the ability to think.

When she told them to sit there and reach chapter one, he didn't bother to open his book—no need to read the material twice, not if they weren't going to use it. So last night had been a complete waste of time after all. It was much more interesting to watch Hermione with her hand raised.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge said after a while.

"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I have a query about your course aim."

"And your name is—?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully." Her voice was rotten sugar.

"Well, I don't," said Hermione in a bluntness that mildly surprised him. "There's nothing written up there about _using _defensive spells." Silence fell. A dramatic pause.

"_Using _defensive spells?" said Professor Umbridge, acting as though it was the most preposterous thought in the world. "Why, I can't image any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use _a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic!" said Ron loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish they speak in my class, Mr.—?"

"Weasley," he said and put his hand in the air. Umbridge just continued smiling and turned her back to him. Harry and Hermione immediately put up their hands as well. Kenshin kept his down until he saw the right opportunity.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?" It was strange, really, that Hermione was the one who figured out from the speech that the Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts, but couldn't understand what was happening right now.

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" This was going to get nowhere, a class couldn't compete against a politician, even one with _this _many people. Kenshin would make sure to get the last word in though…and a detention, if he had to.

"No, but—"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—"

"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going to be attacked it won't in a—" No, bad Harry! You can't fight a politician while being angry. It didn't work. Now other people had their hands raised as well. It would be a long wait, apparently, before Kenshin had his say.

"_Hand_, Potter!" She turned to others around the room. "And your name is?"

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it? If we're going to attacked it won't be a risk-free—"

"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling sweetly, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but—" They were going about it the wrong way. He raised his hand and waited. He was very good waiting.

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said as she proceeded to do exactly that, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed—not to mention"—here she laughed—"extremely dangerous half-breeds." Luckily keeping his cool was also a specialty of Kenshin's. Usually.

"If you mean Professor Lupin," said Dean angrily, "he was the best we ever—"

"_Hand_, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying—you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day—"

"No we haven't," said Hermione, "we just—" Hurry up…His arm was starting to get tired.

"_Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!_" Her hand shot up in the air, but Umbridge turned away, still not seeing him, probably since he was sitting right _next _to Hermione.

"It's my understanding that my predecessor not only preformed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed then _on _you—"

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean. "Mind you, we still learned loads—"

"_Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!_" she said. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And you name is?" she added, seeing _not _Kenshin, but Pavarti. Why, oh why, couldn't she just turn back this way?

"Pavarti Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do that countercurses and things?" Never mind…this would give fuel to his argument. Maybe not being noticed at this moment was a good thing.

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under the carefully controlled examination conditions."

"Without ever practicing them before?" said Pavarti incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll be get to do the spells will be during out exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough—" This woman was giving him a headache.

"And what good's a theory going to be in the real world?" said Harry, raising his hand again. Well, he wasn't breaking any rules technically.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter." Oh god, shut up, Harry.

"Oh yeah?"

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" Rotten sugar. Going about it the wrong way.

"Hm, let's think…maybe _Lord Voldemort_?"

A few people gasped, as irrational as it was. Umbridge looked satisfied. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." The class fell silent. No one noticed Kenshin's hand was raised. "Now, let me make a few things quite plain: You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead—"

"He wasn't dead," said Harry angrily, "but yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr.-Potter-you-have-alread-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," said Professor Umbridge. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large again. _This is a lie._"

"It is NOT a lie," said Harry. "I saw him, I fought him."

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" said Professor Umbridge with a happy smile. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, _this is a lie._ The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.'"

As Umbridge sat down, Harry stood up. Kenshin kept his hand raised, but no one noticed him yet. This was taking a while. _Sit down, Harry, sit down…don't get yourself in worse trouble…_

"Harry, no!" Hermione whispered.

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" Harry asked. The class held its breath, waiting. It was like some entertainment show or something.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she said.

"It was murder," said Harry, shaking. "Voldemort killed him and you know it." There was no saving him, he'd just dug his own grave. Kenshin kept his hand up. Hermione glanced at him for the first time, and mouthed 'what?'. He didn't answer.

"Come here, Mr. Potter, dear." Harry kicked his chair aside and went up. The class watched in anticipation for something horrible to happen. Professor Umbridge pulled out a piece of paper and silently wrote something. When she finished, she folded it and tapped it with her want. "Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," she said and followed him halfway to the door. When he left, she had a triumphant smile on her face. The class let out its breath.

That was most definitely anti-climactic.

Once her smile had faded and she turned to walk back to her desk (every eye on her), she spotted Kenshin. Oh, good, he would be able to put his hand down soon…and this wouldn't go over as badly as it could, he knew that. He hadn't done this much, but when he did, he was good with his words. Her smiled went back on her face, but without that plastic air.

"See, class," she said in her patronizing voice, "this is what a good student does—he sits there quietly with his hand raised and waits his turn. Now, what is it, dear?" She used the word 'dear' too much. He finally lowered his hand.

"I like to ask for a compromise," he said quietly, "and I'd appreciate it if you'd agree." His voice cut through the room, even if he wasn't loud. Whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, he wasn't sure. It unnerved him, though. The class watched with new interest. Her smile because plastic.

"Can we talk about this after class Mr.—"

"Himura. My name's Kenshin Himura. I'd like to say 'nice to meet you', but since the feeling is neither mutual nor true for either of us, we should skip the pleasantries, Professor." She paused before answering, obviously taken-aback by the bluntness of the well-behaved fifteen-year-old.

"You're Japanese, aren't you?" she said. He nodded. "I thought Japan was famous for its politeness."

"We're also famous for having the highest suicide rate in the world," he shot back without pause, unfazed, "until a year ago when it became Sweden, but you can't automatically classify everyone as suicidal because of that. And generally I am polite, I just don't say things needlessly."

It didn't take her as long to recover this time. "We should discuss this after class," she said sweetly, "because all of you are supposed to be reading."

"Not many people are reading, just staring at the page, and we both now that," he said, keep his voice quiet. He didn't want to raise it at all, knowing that even talking at her volume wouldn't help at all. "Will you let me propose the compromise? I'll allow you two options."

"I'm the teacher," she said immediately, "I don't need to take orders from a student."

"Even an emperor will listen to his subjects."

Having no argument to that, she relented. One point to him so far. "Fine, I'll allow you to say something. Please speak quickly, dear, there's only a half hour left of class."

"The compromise is this: you can give me as many detentions as you want after this, whatever kind, and I won't complain. In return, I get to point out all the flaws of your lesson plan and your argument and you can argue back."

"So a debate? That's a cute idea, dear, but I don't really think this is the—"

"And if you disagree with the compromise," he added quietly, "you exempt Harry from his detentions."

"I must remind you, Mr. Himura, that I am the teacher and I—"

"Even an emperor will listen to his subjects," he repeated softly. She paused, then smiled. He sat there silently, waiting. It was easy to bait people into things.

"I suppose we can debate, yes," she said, "For now I won't give detentions, I'll wait until afterwards."

"Your argument and lesson plan, for the most part, correspond," he said, starting immediately, "but then your argument changes. Let's start from the beginning, when it was just about the class. You're lesson itself is very flawed because you're setting us up for failure."

"Failure? If you know the—"

"As Pavarti said, there's a practical exam on the O.W.L. for this class and telling a person to perform a spell for the first time after only studying in books is telling them to fail. Theories, overall, get you nowhere in life unless you test them."

"But if you study the theory you will—"

"Like anything else in life, magic takes time and practice. That's what learning is—you first read the language and mentally process the basic idea in a literary manner and then you apply it and practice until you perfect the technique. You can't stop short at the first test or you become useless."

"But if you study the theory—"

"Also, if you want us to learn in a safe, risk-free environment, it's possible to do that while also using defensive spells. It's simple: If we practice stunning spells, for example, we use a dummy it will have the same effect on. Basically, it's possible to practice defensive spells and still be safe. It's been done before, so it's been proven it's not impossible. Before I move onto my next argument, do you have something to counter with? I suggest you change it from your old one, as I've shot that one to pieces. If you have nothing, I'd be happy to continue."

The class was staring at him, agape with shock. He could feel all the eyes. Luckily it was easy for him to keep a monotone or this would much harder. He kept his blank gaze locked with her surprised one. The plastic smile was on her face. Clapping her hands together, she gave a fake, girlishly high-pitched laugh.

"This is sweet," she said, hands still clasped in front of her. "Hm, well, let's see…As I told Miss Granger here, you are not a Ministry-trained educational expert, so it's not up to you to decide whether or not I am preparing you for life because I assure you that I am."

"But you aren't a Ministry-trained educational expert either," he said, feeling almost disappointed that she couldn't think up a better argument than just reuse her old one. "You aren't even a teacher. You're a normal government official and from your actions and mannerisms, I can tell you're someone high up who looks down on anyone below you. You were given a text book over the summer and told to follow it. Also, you don't feel that anyone other than your superiors have a higher intelligence level than you, whether it's true or not. Most educationally trained can accept the opposite, even if it's hard."

"Yes, but even so," she answered, "I was taught to follow the Ministry's curriculum and therefore I know it better than you do. May I also point out that you are nothing more than a teenager and I am much older and wiser."

"You call it the 'Ministry's curriculum'," he said, "but since nothing is being taught, it can't really be called a curriculum. What we're doing is reading. This isn't something someone much older and wiser than me has thought up, but someone who wanted to limit a group's ability. Whether or not we're minors, we have the power of thought and we know how to use it. We came here to learn and at the age of fifteen, we can be considered independent people with only a few years left until adulthood. Any argument against that falls short. I have to ability to think of a way to counter what you say, proving my own statement."

Her smile was off by now. Apparently not even Umbridge could deal with this.

"Well, I'll have you know it was discussed for some time, years in fact, before we came to this decision."

"It's been discussed for less than ten weeks," he said bluntly. "It was June twenty-fourth when the Minister of Magic and Professor Dumbledore came to a disagreement. It's only been a summer since the Ministry came to the decision to interfere at Hogwarts."

"This has nothing to do with a disagreement," she said with another laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're counter-argument is over," he said, "so may I move on to mine?"

"I—well—"

"Now to move onto the middle of what you told the class, leaving your own lesson plan," he said. "First to discuss a large point, then move onto the short one.

"The first point is your insistence that no one will attack us. This is not true, Professor."

"If you're going so you anything about You-Know—"

"I'm not talking about just Voldemort"—there was a ripple of surprise around the room and she winced—"but normal, everyday people as well. It's impossible to pretend that everyone in life is a good person. People murder people, it's a fact of life, let's not dress it up. People attack people every day, there's no point in pretending otherwise. Everyone here knows this and you know this. What you propose here is we should live in ignorance until we're forced unwillingly not to. You're counter-argument?"

"I repeat," she said, "who would want to attack children such as yourselves?"

"There are cruel people in this world, Professor," he answered, "and no sweet words can hide that. Children are attacked all the time. And even if that weren't true, we won't be children forever. One day we'll have to grow up. We can dream in ignorance of safety, but one day we have to wake up."

"Well, if you are attacked—you will have studied the theories so—so you'll be able to perform it."

"If a person is coming at you, wand held out, sending a curse you've never seen before, and all you've ever done is readabout how to do a Shield Charm, expect that charm to hit you. That's what you're telling us. You're counter-argument's died again, it's my turn.

"The larger part of the second point is how you spoke of the other teachers. Like you seem to like do, you contradicted yourself. After saying that you wished not to criticize how things are taught here, you go on to do that and insult the school and prior teachers. Then you display a bias against a certain group of people, claiming them half-breeds."

Her face went cold. "Having a werewolf be a teacher—"

"It doesn't matter if he was a werewolf or not; if he was good at what he did, then he was a good choice as a teacher. From what I gather, he was a very good one, too. And he never harmed anyone. Your prejudice not only flawed your original argument, but further proved you a bad teacher. Teachers are allowed to influence their students in a positive way and prejudice is not positive."

"But—"

"I'll also have you know that I met the man you're talking about over the summer and I can personally tell you that he's a very nice person."

"It was irresponsible on the part of Dumbledore—"

"Look back at my first statement, I'm not in the habit of repeating myself. To move on to the next teacher, the one you pointed out turned out to be a lunatic and therefore cannot be used as a proper example. Your counter-argument? I have one part left."

"I—well—" She was unsure now. The expected reaction. Politicians were predictable; once they were beaten thoroughly, they could only scramble for so long. "He _could _have hurt someone and Dumbledore should have caught the imposter."

"Remus Lupin was smart enough to know what to do, where to go, and what to take so the situation could be avoided, from what I've been told from both he and my friends. And Barty Crouch Jr. was an amazing actor, as most mentally unstable people are. As your counter-argument has fallen short, should I move onto my final point?"

For a moment, she just stood there and blinked at him. Then she said in is sweetest voice, "Very well, dear, let's hear the last of it."

"You openly provoked a student with an uncomfortable subject," he said, "making sure to say the right thing to get the reaction needed to give a punishment. In front of him, you blatantly called him a liar, provoking him more. You knew it was going to happen and you wanted it to. It was easy, wasn't it, to take advantage of an available opportunity and use it for personal gain? Wasn't that what you were doing, securing your placement in this school as the kind, thoughtful teacher while painting your example as the terrible, unstable liar?"

To this she actually took a step back. He continued with his verbal attack. "In doing just that, you proved quite the opposite, at least to this class—that you aren't afraid to ruin a mere student to make yourself look like a savior sent to corrupt school. Then you made the fatal mistake that all politicians make and disproved evidence."

"Evidence? What are you—"

"_Avada Kedavra_, the Killing Curse, cannot but classified as a 'tragic accident', meaning that you suggested one of two things: first, that Cedric Diggory committed suicide by pointing his wand toward his own body or second, that another one of the champions is the murderer. No matter what you say, you can't disprove a solid fact and the Killing Curse was definitely the cause of death."

"It could have—"

"Any counter-argument for that last bit is useless, since that was even Ministry stated it false. Denying it is an insult to Cedric Diggory's memory. I'd ask you 'Do you really want to do that?', but I know that you don't mind. Within the first fifteen minutes of class you'd already proven what kind of person you are. So, Professor, either try to explain how this is a tragic accident or say which option you're suggesting, suicide or murder."

"I do not need to disclose my thoughts on the matter."

"Then I've already won, because you've just proven you have no explanation."

Silence fell over the room. Kenshin stopped talking. In all honesty, he was rather surprised that he was able to keep going for that long. Katsura would be proud if he knew Kenshin tore a politician's argument to shreds. And that he was able to do it without changing his vocal tone at all, keeping it flat. It threw people off, he'd learned over the years. Though it was a lesson he learned by accident.

"You will be attending detention for one week with Mr. Potter, Himura," she said, personality back to rotten sugar, "and ten points from—"

"That wasn't part of the compromise, Professor," he said softly. She sighed and walked back to the front of the room.

"If _anyone_," she said, replacing her real face with her plastic one, "does that again, I will take fifty points off of Gryffindor, understood? Now get back to reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners', read what you can for the last ten minutes."

With an air of finality, she sat down at her desk and looked at a stack of papers. Inside the classroom was silent. When the bell rang ten minutes later, there was a rush to the door and Kenshin was immediately surrounded once he got outside.

"That was amazing!" said Dean. "You and Harry…wow, you really told her."

"How did you do that?" said Lavender. Suddenly swarmed with people, he felt a small bubble of panic forming and tried to back up. The only problem was that he was surrounded on all four sides. Ron and Hermione would save him, though…hopefully. "We even tried to do it as a class and we couldn't pull it off!"

"Shame you had to get detention, though," said Seamus, shaking his head.

"Unavoidable, though," Pavarti said. "But really, I've never seen anyone shut down a teacher like that before!"

"He told off Malfoy on the train yesterday, too," said Neville, but by now Kenshin had used his smallness to successfully duck under Dean's arm as he raised it while talking and reach Ron and Hermione, who were waiting for him around the corner. Immediately, Hermione pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back without hesitation.

"That was so stupid," she said after Ron cleared his throat loudly and they let go. Even so, she had a large smile on her face. "But absolutely brilliant."

"How did you…" said Ron. "I mean, we tried as an entire class and you did all by yourself in fifteen minutes."

"I'm used to politicians, Ron," he said, running his hand through his hair. "It's not really all that amazing."

"I can't wait to tell Harry," said Hermione happily.

"Tell me what?" asked the third boy, coming up from behind them. Ron and Hermione jumped.

"Kenshin told off Umbridge," said Ron without delay. "And has detention with you."

"You _what_?" Harry stared at him, incredulous.

Hermione and Ron went on to describe what happened in great detail. Kenshin walked a little behind of them, taking a moment to give himself a small smile.

Well, the Order would certainly be happy.

* * *

This chapter is 10,000 words.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay....sorry this took so long. I've just been working on a few other things too, and math. I hate my teacher. Hate her. Anyway, THERE WAS NO EDITING DONE ON THIS CHAPTER, so sorry for the mistakes. Hope you enjoy anyway.

I don't own HP or RK.

* * *

Chapter Four

"Should we head off to detention now?" Harry asked, turning to the smaller boy. He received a nod. Ron sighed.

"Hope it's not too bad," he said. Harry shrugged.

"Well, we'll find out in a few minutes."

"Bye, I'll see you later tonight," said Hermione, giving them a small wave as she headed towards the stairs. Ron followed her. Kenshin and Harry went in the opposite direction.

"So what'd you think it'll be?" They turned down a shortcut, avoiding Peeves.

"No idea," said the redhead. When he didn't add anything else, Harry got the hint—he didn't feel much like talking. Silence fell between them. Personally, he felt very uncomfortable, but he wasn't sure if he could say the same about Kenshin. Probably not, he seemed immune to awkward sometimes.

"Come in," came Umbridge's sugary voice from the other side of her door immediately after Harry knocked. He looked to Kenshin, who looked back and shrugged. Together, they pushed open the door.

Three times he'd been in this office and what it looked like now was completely different than any other of those other three times—no self-portraits, no interesting Dark creature, no magical instruments. Instead there was pink. Lots of pink. And pictures of creepy cats. It wasn't the best he'd seen, that much was certain.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter, Mr. Himura," she said sweetly from her place at the desk.

"Evening," said Harry, mustering every bit of politeness he had.

"Hello, Professor Umbridge," said Kenshin next to him.

"Well, sit down," she said, indicating two tables, both set with pink lacey tablecloths, a piece of parchment of each. Neither boy moved.

"Er," said Harry, very conscious that this probably would work. "Professor Umbridge? Er—before we start, I-I wanted to ask you a…a favor."

As her eyes narrowed, next to him Kenshin whispered, "You worded it the wrong way, think before you speak." Easy for him to say, he was used to this.

"Oh yes?"

"Well, I'm…I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o' clock on Friday and I was—was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it—do it another night…instead…" It was a lost cause, he knew it from the moment he started talking.

"Oh no," said Umbridge and Kenshin shifted beside him. "Oh no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking—"

"Don't bother, Professor," said Kenshin. "You know they aren't lies or stories. If you don't want him to go, you mine-as-well go and say it." Harry blinked, the other boy's bluntness surprising him. "You can add an extra detention onto Monday if you let him or I'll take it for him."

"Oh, so another compromise?" she said and added in her sweetest voice, "Mr. Potter will be attending detention on Friday, but it can be arranged that you have another detention on Monday as well—for lack of manners."

"Only putting in my opinion, Professor," he said so politely Harry almost laughed, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm."

"Sit down, boys," she said again. Silently they followed orders. When he went to pull out a quill and parchment, though, she stopped him. "Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, both of you. No, not with your quills, but you're with two rather special ones of mine." She passed him a quill, then reached over and passed one over to Kenshin.

"I want you, Mr. Potter, to write _'I must not tell lies,'_" she told him. "And you, Mr. Himura…you can write '_I am the subject_.'"

Kenshin laughed quietly, but didn't comment, only nodded. It seemed she was trying to avoid an argument, because she ignored him.

"How many times?" Harry asked with as much politeness as he could muster.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to _sink in,_" she said. "Off you go."

"Professor," said Kenshin as Harry put the tip down to write. Then he realized something was missing. "Can you write the sentence on the board? I've only known English for a year and I occasionally mess up letters."

"Okay, dear, if you need that." She tapped the board with her wand and the sentence scribbled itself across it.

"You haven't give us any ink," Harry said.

"Oh, you won't need ink."

Unnerved now and starting to suspect this wouldn't end well, he put the quill to the parchment and wrote: _I must not tell lies. _

Immediately he let out a gasp of pain as the words etched themselves across his hand, cutting into the skin. At the same time, the words appeared on the parchment in red ink. This was sick. He was writing in his own blood. The words disappeared, but the stinging was still there. Horrified, he looked up at the teacher who was watching him, smiling.

"Yes?" she said.

"Nothing," he answered quickly.

As he put the quill back to paper, he took a moment to glance at his friend, wondering if he was in the same situation. It turned out he was—and he was already much further than Harry, who had only written one line. His hand was torn open again and again. Even so, his face didn't change. Doing a quick double check on Kenshin's eyes though, he was relieved to find they were still blue. According to Hermione, that was when his personality would change. No need to have that.

With great reluctance, he wrote his next line, to the same affect: The searing pain, the blood-ink, the instant healing. Umbridge's eyes were still on them, he could feel her gaze. If she was waiting for the satisfaction of seeing him in pain, he wouldn't let her have it. So he decided to try and copy Kenshin, leaving his face blank. Unfortunately it was harder than it looked and his eyebrows would twitch every so often. Darkness fell outside the windows. How long had it been?

"Com here, both of you," she said after a while. He stood up, trying to ignore the pain in his hand. Though it was healed, the skin where the cut had been still stung and it was read. A moment later Kenshin stood up as well, the parchment in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Professor Umbridge," he said, placing it on her desk. She looked down at it, but didn't make a move to touch it. "You see, I had trouble keeping all my words completely readable—since my hand was bleeding, the blood mixed with the lettering. It didn't help that both were the same thing."

"Yes, I suppose," she said and grabbed his hand. "I see the cut's already visible…you must have written quickly."

"This is all your fault, really," he said, no emotion in his voice, and Harry was once again surprised by his open disregard of her authority. "Not only was it a bad idea to begin with and probably highly illegal, especially since we're both minors, but you also didn't specify how many lines we should do, so I rushed, thinking I had to do as much as I could."

"I have the authority to do this," she answered and Harry was equally surprised to find her arguing _back. _"And you shouldn't question my instructions."

"Yes, I do suppose being the lowly subject does come with that tragic downfall," he answered dryly. "But you're the overall ruler and your tragic downfall is the lowly subject's readiness to fight back. Each side comes with its good and bad."

"Mr. Himura, you're very opinionated for a fifteen-year-old," she said, soundly thoroughly displeased. Harry looked back and forth between the two of them, confused. "I suggest you watch your tongue. It's the best advice anyone will ever give you."

"Unfortunately for you, all lowly subjects hold an opinion. That's how revolutions are started. But don't worry, you're a very lucky teacher, Professor Umbridge, I swear I won't begin an rebel movement against you. A waste of time, really. Homework and friends are much more worthwhile and considerably less dull. May Harry and I please leave? It's getting late and we'd much appreciate going to sleep."

Flabbergasted and speechless, it took Professor Umbridge a moment to answer.

"Fine, you may leave, get plenty of rest up for your classes," she said, smiling. "I don't want to hear the two of you are slacking off."

"Oh, don't worry," said Kenshin, ushering Harry out the door, "I promise to only do so in your class."

"What the—and I thought _I _hated her," said Harry, shaking his head. That was one of the strangest things he'd ever seen. "What's your reason anyway?"

"Let's just said she's the perfect combination of everything I hate," he said bluntly, falling back into his usual tone of voice, "and I've been aggravated lately. Think of her as my punching back—I can't actually do anything, but I can embarrass her enough that it doesn't matter. It's not like the woman doesn't deserve it. And our class doesn't know how to do it properly. That's how you silence a politician by the way. Well, verbally I mean. The real way to silence someone is to kill them, but that's beside the point. It's not like I want to do _that _at all."

Harry frowned. Though he agreed that yes, Umbridge did indeed deserve it, the statement was very out of character for Kenshin. And considerably harsher than anything else he'd said. To be perfectly honest, it freaked him out.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, deciding it was better to save his thoughts for himself for now. "Does your hand hurt?"

"A little," Kenshin answered, "but the bleeding's already stopping. Right now I just want to wash it with soap and water, the blood's drying on it and I don't really like the feel of it."

Yeah, he understood it, or at least thought he did—it was the kind of thing you couldn't get used to. Maybe.

"If you want to get it off quickly, there's a bathroom right over here, remember?"

"Oh yeah…where was it again?"

With a quiet sigh, Harry led him in the right direction. Inside the bathroom was dark except for moonlight pouring through the windows above the sink. Kenshin made a beeline. Harry paced back and forth, thinking about all the horrible aspects that made up Umbridge and realized that humiliating her was the closest to revenge he could currently get. Luckily with the curse on the job, though, she wouldn't last past the school year. Maybe she'd quit because they all annoyed her enough. Heh, that would sure be an embarrassing way to leave. Good for her, she deserved it.

"Are you done yet?" he asked after about ten or so minutes, walking back over. The cut was bleeding again. Kenshin jumped.

"Sorry," he said, "it…the warm water must have opened it again. I guess I should stop. C'mon, let's go."

"Yeah…let's go."

The walk back was silent.

--------------

"How's your hand?" Hermione asked two days later.

She and Kenshin were lying on the grass of their little clearing in the forbidden forest for the first time this year. He had a smile on his face and he looked happier than he had in the past four weeks. His sheathed sword lay on the other side of him. She propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him.

"It's fine, doesn't hurt," he answered, glancing down at the bandages. That horrible woman.

"Are you sure?" she said. He flexed his fingers and relaxed them. No hint of a wince. Not that she expected there to be—unless he had a headache, he had the amazing ability to hide any form of pain.

"Really, Hermione, I'm perfectly okay," he said. "Don't think a few little scratches will get to me. I've been through _far _worse. This is nothing to me."

"You have a point. I'd definitely consider being shot worse than writing with a blood quill." She paused. "Even so, for a school detention…if you and Harry just let us _tell—_"

Kenshin shrugged. "It's Harry who's doing it because he's being stubborn. I don't think it'll do anything. That's my only reason. I can get my revenge in different ways."

"I've noticed," she said, shifting uncomfortably. "Listen, I really don't think you should do that anymore…it was funny, yes, but you could get in serious trouble."

"I did it once, Hermione, don't worry. I'll only do it if I deem it direly necessary, how about that?" His mouth split into a grin, but it was a cautious one. She chewed on her bottom lip.

"Kenshin," she said, finally working up the guts to ask, "what's wrong."

As she expected, his face went blank. "What do you mean?"

How to word it? "I don't know," she said slowly. "It's just that you seem somewhat—somewhat—off, I guess you could say, lately. Like your really stressed out. You haven't been yourself."

"What do you mean?" he repeated. Hermione sighed.

"Oh, I don't know." _Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. _"You just…this is the first time you've seemed relaxed all month." There was more that could have been said, but she decided not to elaborate it; she didn't know how to put it.

In reply, she received a short silence. Finally, he said, "I told you, this summer was a little unexpected. It hit me harder than it should've. I'm sorry if I've been taking it out on you."

"You aren't." She reached over and brushed a piece of grass she noticed off of his face. He flushed red, which caused her to smile to herself. Really, he was completely adorable. "And I promise I won't talk about S.P.E.W. in front of you anymore."

If possible, his face got redder. He looked away. "Yeah, sorry about snapping at you. I feel bad. I probably should have said something last year."

"Do you mind if I ask why—"

"I'll tell you some other time. I don't feel like talking about it."

"Okay."

An awkward silence fell between them. She lay back down, looking through the canopy of three and up at the bits of visible autumn sky.

"So—" they both said at the same time, then started laughing because it was the only thing to do.

"Come on," he said, grinning widely and standing up. The good mood was back. He held out his hand. "We should get back, Quidditch practice will end soon and Harry and Ron'll be begging you for held on their homework."

She grabbed his hand and he pulled her up. Sighing, she said, "Yeah, I suppose you're right. How is it that you can do your homework on time and they can't?"

"Did we go over this last year?" he said with a hint of a smile. "I don't procrastinate. Besides, I don't have anything else to do and I liked to spend time with you. And since you're usually doing work, it would make sense that I do work too, right?"

"Yeah," she said with a pleased (but embarrassed) smile. It always felt good to be complimented and especially by him. Kenshin wasn't one to give out compliments all that often. "I suppose it makes sense…just like coming here, right, when the homework's done? I like spending time with you too."

"Speaking of homework, I either you or Harry or Ron to check the spelling on my Charms essay—I'm still now the best at that."

"I'll do it," she said, "while they're working of theirs. It'll only take a minute. You aren't as bad as you think. Mind, you aren't the best in the world, but it would be strange if you were."

"Sometimes I wish I just write everything in Japanese. It would make my life so much easier."

"It's been a year, you've gotten a lot better."

"Thanks," he said, then paused.

As they reached the doors of the school, the subject changed again and by the time they were back at the common room, any leftover awkward feelings had disappeared. Harry and Ron were already waiting for them and, as expected, they immediately started asking for help. It was hours before they went to bed.

"Oh, uh, Hermione," Kenshin said suddenly as she gathered her things and the other boys disappeared upstairs. She jumped, not realizing he was there. "Oh, um, sorry."

"It's okay," she said, picking up her last book and turning to face him. "What is it?"

He shifted from one foot to the other. "I was just wondering, um, well—I suppose I was just wondering if you, um—"

"Hey, Kenshin!" said Ron, poking his head around the wall. "I forgot my essay, do you think you could grab it for me?"

"Oh…sure," he said and picked it up from the table. Ron disappeared again.

"As you were saying," said Hermione, waiting.

"Nevermind," he said with a half smile. "It was stupid, forget about it." He headed upstairs.

"Wait—Kenshin—really, what is it?"

"It's nothing," he said again, standing on the stairs. Goodnight, Hermione. I'll see you in the morning."

And then the redhead walked to his dorm, leaving her alone and confused at the bottom of the stairs.

--------------

Kenshin came down to breakfast late that Monday morning. He was greeted with the sight of the horrified faces of Harry and Hermione and the forming grin on Ron's face.

"What?" asked Harry and Hermione together to Ron as Kenshin sat down.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," answered a rather cheerful Ron. "Umbridge won't know what hit her."

"What're you talking about?" he said, running his fingers through his hair. He was so tired. For some reason the night before, he'd had a very large number of nightmares, making sleep difficult. And his head hurt. God, he hated headaches.

"Wait—whoa, when did you get here?" said Harry, looking over, alarmed.

"About five seconds ago, when you said 'what'."

Hermione worried her bottom lip. "Umbridge was just made High Inquisitor," she said, then added, "Well, come on, we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns' class we don't want to be late. We'll explain on the way."

Quickly they hurried from the Great Hall and Hermione continued speaking. "It says in an article in the _Profit _that she has the right to evaluate teachers now. She's being forced on us. It's terrible!"

"What the hell? When did this happen?"

"Last night, apparently," answered Ron. "Remember Percy's letter?" Kenshin nodded. "This is what he was talking about."

"This is sick…"

"So the two of you should stay out of trouble!" said Hermione accusingly to he and Harry. Kenshin laughed.

"Don't worry, I won't argue unless absolutely necessary," he answered and Hermione whacked him on the back of the head. "Hey, come on, I have a headache!"

"Sorry," she said and she, Ron and Harry laughed too. "The Ministry's ruining this school," she said once the four of them stopped. "I miss the _old _Hogwarts."

"Same," said Harry and Ron. Kenshin shrugged.

"I miss last year," he said, "but that's about all I can say. Wish I'd been here for the other years."

"Yeah, that would've been fun," said Ron. "But at least this year isn't your first year. I'd feel really bad if it was."

When they entered the History of Magic classroom, he was relieved to see that Umbridge wasn't there. "Then again," he added, "it wouldn't have made any sense. I would've been in the school in Japan otherwise."

"I guess it's good you enrolled late," said Harry as they took their seats. Binns started the lesson. They feel silent. Hermione took notes. Everyone else in the class put their heads down and slept. Included in this, for once, was Kenshin.

The rest of the day passed with an odd monotony. In Snape's they called idiots and then assigned potions, at lunch Hermione talked about grades and inspected lessons. Then at Arithmancy he took notes mindlessly, barely paying attention to anything the teacher said. And then finally came the end of the day and by far the worst part of the week.

Umbridge.

Walking into her class was like walking into a funeral parlor. Everyone immediately hushed. At the front stood Umbridge herself, smiling her patronizing smile. When she instructed everyone to put their wands away and open their books, Hermione and Kenshin were the only two to keep their books closed. Hermione's hand was raised. Because he was bored, annoyed, and still on the edge from his nightmare, he raised it as well. His friend gave him a sideways glance that easily read _idiot. _Oh well, if she yelled at him, he could just point it was hypocritical of her.

"What is it this time, Miss Granger?" said Professor Umbridge, approaching her desk this time rather than ask from the front of the room. She blatantly ignored Kenshin's.

"I've already read chapter two," said Hermione.

Immediately jumping in, Kenshin added, "So have I."

"I didn't call on you, Mr. Himura," she said and he repressed a smile. It was funny, really, how she always walked herself straight into her own trouble. "And if the two of you have finished, then proceed to chapter three."

"We've read that too," said Hermione. "We've read the entire book."

Umbridge smiled, evidently not believing her. "And why, pray tell, would you do that?"

"English isn't my first language," Kenshin reminded her, "so in the beginning of the year, Hermione and I read through the textbooks together. I understand the majority of it, but it's just so I don't get lost during the practical learning. Of course, now I realized we shouldn't have bothered."

There was a pause where Umbridge blinked again, but recovered quickly. "Well, then," she said, "you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says that counterjinxes are improperly named," answered Hermione. "He says 'counterjinx' is just a name give to their gives when they want to make them sound more acceptable. But I disagree."

"You disagree?"

"Yes, I do." They were attracting attention. "Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you?" She wasn't whispering anymore. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

"But—"

"This is enough." Umbridge walked up to the front of the class, all haughtiness gone. "Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House."

"What for?" In that moment, Kenshin honestly could have slapped Harry.

"Don't get involved!" whispered Hermione.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Professor Umbridge. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them—with the possible exception of Professor Quirrel who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects—would have passed Ministry inspection—"

"Yeah, there was just the minor draw back that—" Harry began, but Kenshin stepped hard on his foot. "OW!"

"Shut up," he whispered. "Trust me, you want to."

Professor Umbridge stared at the two of them. "What were you about to say, dear?"

"Stay quiet, Harry, don't get involved."

"I believe Mr. Potter here would like to say something," said Umbridge. "What is it?"

"Nothing, Professor," he answered. Kenshin inwardly gave a sigh of relief.

At least one problem was postponed.


	5. Chapter 5

SORRY for the epically long break in between posts. I promise to update more often, same with Frailty. Also, the x button on my keyboard is being stupid, so it didn't always come up in certain words. I deeply, deeply apologize and I hope you aren't too angry.

I don't own RK or HP. Oh, tragic.

* * *

Chapter Five

The following morning, they walked into Transfigurations to find Umbridge sitting in the corner. The woman sat there in her pink cardigan, a clipboard in hand, her eyes zooming around as she watched the students enter one by one. When she saw the four of them enter, her gaze narrowed to a glare. Kenshin smiled widely.

"Hello, Professor!" he said cheerfully as he passed, causing the students to look up. "Have you come to make another class counter-productive? I assure you, one is certainly enough. Don't you agree?"

The class laughed. Hermione shook her head in disbelief, causing a slight pang of guilt. Unfortunately for his friend, though, his unexplainable desire to embarrass Umbridge outweighed the guilt.

"That's enough out of you, Mr. Himura—"

"That will do," said McGonagall as she entered, completely ignoring the other Professor. All laughed ceased. Umbridge fell quiet. "Mr. Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework—Mss Brown, please take this box of mice—don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you—and hand one to each student."

"_Hem, hem_," said Umbridge and still McGonagall ignored her. Seamus slid his essay on his desk. There was an O on top and next to written, _Practice your spelling. _Hermione looked over and laughed quietly.

"Right then," McGonagall continued, "everyone, listen closely—Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention—most of you have successfully vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have the gist of the spell. Today we shall be—"

"_Hem, hem_."

"Yes?" said McGonagall, finally fed up, and turned around.

"I was just wonder, Professor," said Umbridge, "whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspect—"

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you were doing in my classroom." She turned back around. "As I was saying, today we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell—"

"_Hem, hem_."

"I wonder," said McGonagall and she had Hell burning in her eyes, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking."

The look on Umbridge's fact was priceless. For a moment, Kenshin thought she was going to say something, but she stayed silent, instead writing furiously on her paper. McGonagall turned back around to continue her lesson. She was now his favorite teacher. He looked down at the little mouse on the desk and started trying.

Hermione finished Vanishing her mouse in twenty minutes—Kenshin was done moments afterwards. It hadn't been all that hard really; since he already knew the spell, all he needed to do was concentrate. It wasn't too difficult, as concentration was always something he found easy. You couldn't be a ten-year-old assassin and suffer from ADD after all.

"As usual the two of you finish the fastest," McGonagall said, walking over. The Vanished mouse was wiggling around in his hand. "Five points to Gryffindor, each."

At first he was rather confused because, while he was pretty good at Transfiguration and it was by far his best subject, he generally didn't finish this quickly. Next to him, Hermione looked equally confused. Then he glanced to the front of the room and saw that Umbridge was glaring at him. Oh. Now it made sense. McGonagall probably heard what had happened and wanted to annoy her.

"Thank you, Professor," he answered.

The rest of the class of rather uneventful now that he and Hermione had nothing to do and they didn't want to risk talking with Umbridge in the room. As much fun as it was to annoy her, he didn't want to make his favorite teacher look bad in efforts to do it. Classing ending, though, was finally interesting.

They were heading to the door when Kenshin noticed Umbridge approach McGonagall. He nudged Harry, who nudged Ron, who nudged Hermione. They exchanged a glanced and hung back, eavesdropping like the innocent little children they were.

"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Professor Umbridge said.

"Thirty-nine years this December," answered McGonagall shortly.

"Very well," said Umbridge after writing something down, "you will receive the results of you inspection in ten days' times."

"I can hardly way," said the other teacher in a bland tone. She headed to the door. "Hurry you, you four," you added, seeing them.

Kenshin was desperately hoping that he wouldn't see Umbridge until his next class with her. He was then disappointed, though, when he showed up at Care of Magical Creatures—the woman was there too. "Great," he mumbled under his breath. Harry looked at him and nodded in agreement.

They listened to her question Grubbly-Plank and the students (skipping over them of course). Thankfully nothing bad was said. The class was loyal. Good. Even when she interrogated the substitute again, nothing went wrong. Then of course, everything went wrong when she talked to the Slytherins. Apparently she wanted to save the best for last. How was it that one woman was so absolutely determined to ruin a school? Sure, it was an important school, but it was still just a school.

Then again, there was most likely something he didn't understand.

Professor Umbridge turned to Goyle, and said, "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?"

"That was me," said Malfoy. "I was slashed by a hippogriff."

"A hippogriff?" The woman wrote something down.

Kenshin glanced at Harry, only to see him seething. And before he could stop him, Harry said, "Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid had told him to do."

"Another night's detention, I think. We'll, that you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank. I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."

"Jolly good," said the substitute. Umbridge left.

"I know you want to protect Hagrid," said Hermione, "because we all do, but you can't go and cut in like that."

"Yeah, Harry," she Ron, "the old cow's looking for a reason to get you in detention."

"So you want me to back down and do nothing?" He glared.

Kenshin sighed. "Look, you don't need to back down and do nothing. I don't. Just don't say something when you know it's not the right moment. To properly get into this woman's head, you either have to go behind her back and make a quiet rebellion or openly rebel when the time presents itself and you won't get in trouble."

"Kenshin, you seem to have an uncanny ability to manipulate her," Hermione said, "but the rest of us lack that. Any other suggestions?"

He thought for a moment then shook his head. Next to him, Harry continued to scowl. Well, this was an uncomfortable situation. Awkwardly he shifted a bit away from the group, trying to avoid getting pulled into the inevitable fight. Surprisingly, there was no fight, just some silence. And it wasn't the good kind of silence, either. Second week of school and already it wasn't proving to be a good one. Joyful.

Then again, when did anything ever go his way?

.

"Kenshin," said Harry the next morning, catching up to his friend as they reached the common room, "sorry about last night. I said all of that without thinking."

The redhead blinked at him and for a moment it looked like he'd forgotten everything. Then realization dawned on his face and he shrugged. "It's fine, Harry, I didn't really mind. You were right, anyway."

"What?"

"Well, none of us've fought him, so we don't know what it's like. Sure, I've seen a lot and have done a lot, but I still can't say that I've fought Voldemort. See?"

Harry nodded and said, "Okay, I just wanted to make sure it didn't come out as an, 'oh pity me' moment."

"Nah, didn't sound like it at all. Don't worry, we're your friends. And friends stick by each other, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't know. I felt like it selfish or something."

"Why?"

"Well, you've been through worse than—"

"We've been through _different _things," corrected Kenshin. "Completely different. They can't be compared. So, yeah, you had the right to say that, especially the way Ron and Hermione were pushing you. Though they did have a point, Harry. Luck and help can only bring you so far."

"I'm not all that skilled," he said, starting to get frustrated with everyone thinking he was so amazing. Well, not everyone. The majority of people in Hogwarts and the wizarding world thought him to be loony. "On the smarts level I'm more average than anything."

"Who said it had anything to do with intelligence?" Harry looked at him, confused. Luck, help, and intelligence were always what he saw victory as. "The will to live is a powerful thing. If that will is strong enough, surviving isn't all that hard. I think you've had that. So don't forget that need to keep on going. You have a pretty good chance."

"So says the person with an amazing level of skill."

Kenshin shrugged. "I've been hurt before by people who weren't all that skilled purely because they had something to live for."

"I guess you're right," he answered, though he was still doubtful. An emotion didn't seem like something that could keep him alive. But he was talking to someone with experience, so he supposed he should believe it.

"So are you doing to do it?"

"What?"

"Are you going to teach us?"

Harry turned it over in his mind for a moment. Then he sighed and said, "I don't know. I'm probably not a good teacher. But Umbridge is so horrible…I'm thinking about it. Do you think I should do it?"

"Yes," Kenshin said bluntly. "Despite what I said, I believe that intelligence is a trait to be valued and it's our natural right to learn. We shouldn't have it taken away from us."

"Yeah, I know." Still, he wasn't sure if he wanted to or not. As horrible as it sounded, he didn't want the responsibility. Besides, who would show up? "Come on, let's go meet up with Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall."

"At least we don't have her today," said the redhead as they walked. "Or Snape. Two worst classes out of the way."

"If one of the two had to go," he said, "and only one, which one would you rather have leave?"

"If one of who had to leave?" asked Hermione as they sat down. Harry immediately grabbed for some food.

"Either Snape or Umbridge," he answered. "If one had to leave, which one would you rather have go?"

"Oh, that's a hard one," she said and looked to Ron. "What do you think?"

"Both can't leave?"

Kenshin and Harry shook their heads. "I'd say Umbridge," said Kenshin.

Harry agreed and so did Hermione.

"How about this?" said Ron and he could feel the ridiculous answer coming on. Not that he minded. "Snape gets sacked for being a slimy old git, right? Then we trick Umbridge into following us into the forbidden forest. Before we do that we dig a giant hole and cover it with twigs and stuff. We make her stand in it and then she falls and is never found again."

Everyone laughed and Ron gave a triumphant smile. If his suggestion happened, Harry would be the happiest man on Earth. Glancing up at the teacher's table, he saw that no one was talking to the Defense professor. Everyone ignored her. Snape, as expected, was being talked to. As much as he hated the man, the Potions professor had been at Hogwarts for so long that he naturally made friends. Though why anyone would want to be friends with him was a complete mystery.

"Come on, we have Charms now," said Hermione, standing. "And we don't want to be late."

"Oh, of course not," said Ron, rolling his eyes. Their friend glared. "Fine, fine, I'm sorry."

"Hey, Kenshin," said Harry, pulling the smaller boy back a bit so they didn't interrupt the other two's bickering. They found a way to turn anything into an argument, even if most were harmless. Oh well, it showed that life had some semblance of normalcy. "I have a question."

"Okay, what is it?"

"Did your hand scar?" he asked. The redhead lifted his right hand. "Mine, too."

"Of course it did, we repeatedly cut our skin open. If it didn't scar, I'd be shocked. And I seem to scar pretty easily anyway."

"Yeah, I've noticed," he said, looking his friend up and down.

"Why did ask?"

"Just wondering."

"If we ever want to get her in trouble in the future," said Kenshin, "we have proof. That's the one good thing about it."

"Hm." They slid inside the Charms classroom and took their usual place next to Ron and Hermione, who were once again discussing throwing Umbridge in a ditch.

If only they could.

.

The next Hogsmeade trip found the four friends in the Hog's Head, a dingy little pub at the end of town. While Hermione thought it wasn't the most…ideal place for a meeting, it was secluded and no Hogwarts students went there. Despite its dirtiness, it was good enough and would have to do. Hopefully people would show up because it would be horrible if they didn't. This was the one chance they had—the one chance—to do something about the woman. And something needed to be done.

The Ministry had no right to pry into Hogwarts. It wasn't as if they did it to any other school. Then again, no other school had a headmaster quite like Dumbledore. Even so, it wasn't fair. As childish as the thought was, it was still there. And it would most likely always be there because there was always something unfair out there.

In the younger years of life, parents and teachers always preached that the world was just and fair. They always said that sharing was the right thing to do because it gave everyone a chance. They taught the Platinum Rule: _Treat others how they would want to be treated. _Well, it seemed that in their preachings they conveniently forgot something important. In a just and fair world, everyone would get their own share and would be treated how they wanted. But this, of course, was assuming they lived in a just and fair world.

If they did, the four of them wouldn't have to be here in the Hog's Head. They wouldn't be waiting for other rule-breakers to arrive. Dolores Umbridge wouldn't be at the school and Voldemort wouldn't exist. Harry would have his parents and no scar. And even if Voldemort did exist, everyone would believe Harry and Dumbledore and start to be on the defense. The four of them would be in the Three Broomsticks, sipping warm butterbeer and laughing about this and that. Kenshin wouldn't have a scar on his cheek because the only reason he would be here would be the name change. Ron wouldn't be in tattered robes because his dad would have gotten the promotion he deserved.

Unfortunately, that image wasn't anything more than wishful thinking.

"You know what?" said Ron as they sat down at the table. He was looking up at the bar. "We could order anything we liked here, I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try a firewhisky—"

"You—are—a—prefect," she snapped. Though she didn't believe that rules should not always be followed, she still did feel that authority figures needed to be role models and both she and Ron were, indeed, authority figures.

"Oh, yeah…" The smile faded and he was left with a sort of lost puppy look.

"What's firewhisky?" asked Kenshin, looking around.

"Only the best alcoholic drink ever!" answered Ron, and then proceeded to explain how badly he wanted one.

"So who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, turning to her.

"Just a couple of people," she answered, peering at the door. Still no one. What if people didn't come? "I told them to be here now and I'm sure they all know where it is—oh look, this might be them now."

She gave a smile of relief as the pub door opened. A crowd rushed in, with Neville, Dean, and Lavender as the first three. Then there was Pavarti and Padma with Cho and one of her friends. After that came Luna, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, the Creevey brothers, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbot, a girl she didn't know, Anthony Goldstein, the Ravenclaw prefect, Michael Corner, Ginny's boyfriend, and Terry Boot. Then came Ginny followed by Zacharias Smith and lastly came Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. Hermione found herself positively beaming with happiness.

"A couple of people?" said Harry. "A _couple of people_?"

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular. Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"

"Hi," said Fred, going up to the stunned bartender. "Could we have…twenty-five butterbeers, please?"

The bartender glared at him, dropped what he was doing, and went about getting the drinks. Hermione had not smiled this widely in a long time. Both Kenshin and Ron looked a little confused. Harry looked worried and slightly afraid. He'd get over it. Of course, she was nervous, too, but that was only to be expected.

"Cheers," said Fred, giving out the butterbeers. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these."

"What have you been telling these people?" Harry asked. "What are they expecting?"

"I told you, they just want to hear what you want to say," she answered, hoping to reassure him, but knowing it won't work. Kenshin gave her this look that clearly read, _do you really think that_? Well, of course she didn't, but she had to say something because this _was _going to work. "You don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first."

"Hi, Harry," said Neville, taking the seat opposite him. Gradually everyone else came to sit around the table, all staring intently. She was suddenly aware of exactly _how _nervous she was.

"Well—er—hi," she said, hating how her voice raised. When the group focused on her, it took all her willpower to keep looking right back at them.

"Well…erm…well, you know why you're here. Erm…well, Harry here had an idea"—Bad called, she had to correct herself—"I mean, I had the idea—that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts—and I mean really study it, you know, not the rubbish Umbridge is doing with us." Suddenly she knew she had to do this; her voice grew stronger. "Because nobody would call that Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Here, here!" said Anthony Goldstein.

"Well," she continued, "I thought it would good if we, well, took matters into our own hands." She paused and looked at Harry. Then she said, "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory, but real spells—"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., too, though, I bet?" said Michael Corner. Oh great, is that what everyone thought of her? Some grade nut? Naturally she cared about it, but even so, that didn't mean she couldn't care about more important things.

"Of course I do," she answered. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained because…because…" She faltered for a moment and glanced again at Harry. Right behind him was Kenshin, who gave her a little nod to continue. So she took a deep breath, looked back at the crowd, and said, "Because Lord Voldemort is back."

The crowd reacted as expected—shudders, screams, twitches, drinks spilled. Honestly, couldn't people grow a little courage? Then again, she said Voldemort's name for the first time two weeks ago. Every person turned their gaze to Harry.

"Well, that's the plan anyway," said Hermione, hoping to delay the inevitable a little longer. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to—"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said Zacharias Smith.

"Well, if Dumbledore believes it—" she tried, but he cut her off.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes _him_," he said, nodding to Harry. Oh, she knew this was going to happen.

"Who are _you_?" asked Ron and for once Hermione was happy he had a tone in his voice.

"Zacharias Smith. And I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes _him _say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look," she said, trying intervene, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—"

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry and she felt positively awful.

"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he said, looking Smith eye to eye. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

Smith retaliated. "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts"—Oh, this boy had no shame; Cho was right there and of course Harry didn't want to talk about it—"He didn't give us details, he didn't tells us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know—"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry said and Hermione sensed the anger dam about to break. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

He sent her an angry look and she looked away, ashamed. Smith opened his mouth to say something, but Kenshin (naturally), jumped to the rescue.

"What are doing?" he said, looking out at the audience of twenty-five. "Why come here if all you want to hear is how a person died? What we're doing here is organizing a way to learn a subject that may one day save your lives. If you want to know what death is really like, wait until Voldemort shows himself and the Ministry is forced to accept that he's actually walking around, very much alive. Then you'll get to read murder every day. And if can't wait that long, get a Muggle newspaper because I'm sure you'll find at least one gruesome case there. Now change the subject to something relevant."

For a moment everyone was silent. Then one girl said to Harry, "Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a ripple of interest.

"Yeah," said Harry. Hermione gave Kenshin a look of thanks. He shrugged.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

There was a pause before Harry asked, "Er—you don't know Madam Bones, do you?"

The girl smiled. "She's my auntie," she answered. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So—is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, smiling at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," said Harry and a couple of people laughed.

"And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" asked Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…"

"Er—yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry. Everything was going…well, better, now.

"And in our first year," said Neville, "he saved the Sorcerous Stone—"

"Sorcerer's," corrected Hermione.

"Yeah, that, from You-Know-Who," he said.

"And that's not to mention," said Cho, "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year—getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantuals and things…"

General chatter started around the table. "Look," said Harry and everyone shut up. "I…I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but…I had a lot of help with all that stuff…"

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying."

"Yeah, well—" Hermione could've slapped him for being so modest. Even when helped, he was helped mostly by kids his own age (she, Ron, and last year Kenshin). That was still quite impressive.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," said Susan.

"No, no, okay," said Harry, "I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is—"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Smith.

"Here's an idea," said Ron before anyone else could interject, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it." His cheeks were red from anger. Why, oh why did he have to be here? So much for interested!

"There's not what he said," said Fred.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" asked George, pulling out a long metal instrument that looked like it could easily kill a person.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

"Yes, well," she said, cutting in quickly before any fights could happen. The last thing she wanted was for this to get messy. She continued, "Moving on…the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

The crowd gave a universal sound of agreement. Good, very good.

"Right," she said, cheered up. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week—"

Immediately members of all three Quidditch teams put in their say of no meetings during practice. Sports, what was the point? As much fun as they were to watch or play, they didn't amount to anything in life. What did amount to life was this—learning. Oh well, she had to make the arrangement.

From there on a discussion started—about how this was incredibly important (which it was), about what heliopaths were, about where they should meet. Library was out of the question, same with an unused classroom. No one could think of anywhere else, not even the twins who knew everywhere in the castle. Then the signing started. It was remarkable how many people signed without a problem, though Ernie Macmillan hesitating was a bit of surprise.

Finally they all left and she and the boys left the dirty pub for the bright sunlight outside.

"That Zacharias bloke's a wart," said Ron.

"I agree," said Kenshin almost immediately.

"I don't like him much either," she said, "but he overheard me tell Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say? But the more people the better really—I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if he hadn't been going out with Ginny—"

The moment it came out of her mouth she knew it was bad idea. Ron spit out his butterbeer.

"He's WHAT?" he said, eyes wide. Really, he was too protective about his little sister. "She's going with—my sister's going—what d'you mean, Michael Corner?"

"Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think—well, they're obviously interested in learning defense, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on—"

"When did this—when did she—?"

For the next fifteen minutes she forced to tell Ron that, basically, his sister wasn't a little girl anymore. She couldn't fathom why he couldn't get that. Sure, she was younger than him, but only by a year. And she was almost fourteen when she started dating—a normal age!

Boys. She would never understand them.

.

When they walked into the Potions room next Monday, they were greeted by the sight of Umbridge sitting in the corner of the room. Neville, who'd they just stopped before he lunged at Malfoy, headed over to his seat. Kenshin had a feeling he didn't want to know what that was about. What he did want to know, though, was if Umbridge would love Snape the same way she did all the Slytherins, or if she would hate him like all the Hogwarts teachers. Well, he'd find out soon.

"You will notice," said Snape as they sat down, "that we have a guest today."

There was silence in the classroom. Ron and Kenshin made eye contact and it was hard not to laugh—the conversation two weeks ago came easily back to mind.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if you made them they should have matured well over the weekend—instructions are on the bored. Carry on."

For the first half hour of class, all Umbridge did was take notes on her little clipboard. It was boring, to say the least.

"I thought of a better solution," whispered Ron as the other redhead added salamander blood to his potion.

"What is it?" he asked in a quiet voice, trying not to attract attention. No matter how much fun fights with Umbridge were, he decided it would be best to not get in anymore trouble until the Gryffindor Quidditch team was remade. Whether or not he was on, he suspected all his housemates' performances would affect her decision.

"We trick both of them to fall into the same hole," Ron answered. "Then they can annoy each other until their dying day."

Kenshin held back a laugh and nodded. "Sounds good to me," he said, flashing a smile. Hermione gave him a perplexed look, but before she could ask anything, Umbridge approached Snape. They all shut up and listened.

"Well, this class seems fairly advanced for their level," she said, facing Snape's back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

The Potions professor turned around and faced her.

"Now, how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, ready to write.

"Fourteen years," he answered emotionlessly. Next to Kenshin, Harry's potion went from turquoise to orange. That couldn't be good.

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?"

"Yes."

"But you were unsuccessful?"

Snape looked down at her.

"Obviously." Why even bother to ask that?

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" she said.

"Yes," said Snape.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?"

"I suggest you ask him."

"Oh, I shall."

"I suppose this is relevant?" asked Snape.

"Oh yes," said Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wanted a thorough understanding of teacher'—er—backgrounds…" She walked away to question students, conveniently ignoring the Gryffindors.

"No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape, seeing Harry's potion. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indication how and why it went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

"Yes," answered Harry through gritted teeth.

"How was that remotely fair?" said Kenshin after Snape had walked away. "Other people messed up too."

"When has Snape ever been fair?" said Hermione.

"Point taken," he said as they left.

"Maybe I'll skive off Divination," said Harry after lunch. "I'll pretend to be ill and do Snape's essay instead, then I won't have to stay up half the night…"

"You can't skive off Divination," said Hermione, which was no surprise.

"Hark, who's talking, you walked out Divination, you hate Trelawney!" said Ron.

"What does hark mean?" ask Kenshin, but they all ignored him.

"I don't _hate _her," answered Hermione. "I just think she's an absolutely appalling teacher and a real old fraud…But Harry's already missed History of Magic and I don't think he ought to miss anything else today!"

With sighs of great sadness, Harry and Ron left for class.

"So you called a woman you don't hate a fake and a bad teaching?" asked Kenshin as they headed to Arithmancy.

"I _dislike _her, not _hate _her. There's a difference."

"Okay, I might know how to speak and write English by now, but that doesn't mean I can always tell the difference between two words. I thought they were the same word that meant the same thing."

"No, dislike is nowhere near as bad as hatred, you see," she explained. "Hatred is what we feel for Professor Umbridge. Dislike is what we feel for annoying people. Make sense?"

"I guess," answered Kenshin, when in truth he was still confused. He didn't like it when two words had such similar meanings. No matter how well he could speak it now, he still _disliked _how hard the English language was to understand. "Hey, want to come out to the forest later?" he asked.

"If we don't have too much homework," she said and he smiled.

At least some things stayed the same.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi! My updating speed's increased tenfold again! Woo! Okay, anyway, the end is extremely out of character because I wrote it at three in morning after I woke up from a nightmare about spiders in my bed and I couldn't fall back asleep. Um, so it's weird. But, I gave it reason, which is sorta explained in the last sentence, but will be fully explained in the next chapter, which will be out soon. All my friends but me are away, so for the next few days, I have no life. Enjoy.

SNAKES AND CRANE: Happy late birthday, sweetie!

TO THOSE WHO READ FRAILTY: I feel like continuing, but can't think of anything, so I'm taking suggestions.

Also, due to a review, Hiko now hates birds and owls are evil.

I don't own HP or RK.

Chapter Six

Hiko was finishing up dinner when the owl arrived. Damn birds. It tapped its talons against the window furiously as if it _knew _how much he didn't like its kind. Birds themselves were horrible, but owls were the worst of all of them. What was that possessed these witches and wizards to use them as a way of post? Weren't carrier pigeons bad enough? Apparently not.

"Come on in," he said with a sigh, opening the window for it. The little bird hopped in and held its leg out, where the letter was attached. He reached over and untied it. The owl stayed, waiting, eyes watching.

When he opened it, he read:

_Master—_

_ Fifth year so far is weird. I don't know how else to put it. Remember how over the summer I told you one class was cursed so a teacher only lasts one year? Yeah, well the teacher this year horrible. It used to be one of the best classes, but now it's annoying. All she has us do is read and says that if we study the theory enough, we'll be able to successfully do the spell first time. Then again, she's a government official, so I suppose it's in her blood to set us up for failure and be completely useless. _

So apparently this new teacher was worse than the one last year. Interesting. He didn't know that was possible, but apparently anything is.

_Okay, and I don't know if you'll be angry about this or proud of this, but I told her off. Successfully. At first the entire class was trying, so I had to wait until they finished. Of course she finally called on me and I got her stuck in a debate. I managed to diplomatically insult and embarrass a politician in front of a group of fifteen-year-olds. I never thought I'd be able to say that, but I guess there's a first for everything. _

_ How's Japan? And how're you? Watch out for the owl by the way; it bites. It managed to bite me while I was in Owlery. Also, I really miss food. Actual food. I think I've already lost the little bit of weight I gained back over the summer. This isn't good, is it? _

_ Anyway, you probably know what I'm going to ask. _

_ —Kenshin _

_ P.S. Musmre isht or aebkr ouy lwli I. Cehatre eth yb Edar igbne si mlia teh ubt rmoe twier udowl I. _

For a while Hiko stared at the postscript, confused. The characters were backwards and out of place and made no sense. Then it came to him—they were switched around. Kenshin had made a simple code. After trying several different combinations and putting the two sentences as a mirror image, he was able to read:

_ P.S. I would write more but the mail is being read by the teacher. I will tell you either winter break or this summer._

Now, why would he switch around the sentences and the characters? Even if the teacher was checking the mail, he doubted she could read Japanese. It wasn't a commonly spoken language. Of course, the answer to that one hit him two; it was a magical school after all, so naturally they would be able to use a spell to translate it. But with the switched around characters, it would untranslatable. It would come up as gibberish. Smart, an interesting way to cover it up. What made no sense, though, was why he said, _you probably know what I'm going to ask. _It wasn't as if the school would care about a dead family member. He was sure Kenshin wasn't the only one. Whatever, he'd figure it out later.

"Wait here," he said to the bird before he realized he was talking to an owl. Birds couldn't understand him, obviously. Oh, he was losing his mind.

It would take a while to figure out what to write back to his student. Codes were never his strong point.

.

"This is amazing," said Kenshin, looking around the Room of Requirements. "I mean, this is really, really amazing."

"These will be good when we're practicing Stunning," said Ron, poking one of the cushions of the floor.

"And just look at these books!" said Hermione, running her hand across the rows and rows of shelves. "Harry, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!" Then she sat down and began to read.

"So what'd you think?" Harry asked, looking around.

"I think it's good," said Kenshin and Ron enthusiastically agreed. "Perfect, even, though it looks nothing like a resistance meeting room."

"What did yours look like?" asked Ron.

"Like a large dining room in a hotel," he answered. "Simple. Nothing too fancy. It was the easiest way to hide. Of course, there were trapped doors and what—I just thought of something!"

"What is it?" Harry said. Ron looked at him and Hermione peeled her eyes away from her book.

"Do you think this room can exit to different locations? I mean, if it can make something this good, I'm sure it can. Then we'll be harder to detect."

"Brilliant, Kenshin," said Hermione, positively beaming. "Brilliant."

"We'll test it out at the end of this, okay?" said Harry as someone knocked on the door. Kenshin looked over; Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, and Dean entered.

"Whoa," said Dean the moment he stepped in. "What is this place?"

Immediately Harry began to explain, but then more people came in and he had to start over again. Luckily it wasn't too long before everyone arrived and knew what the Room of Requirements was.

"Well," said Harry and nervousness was coming off him in waves. "This is the place we've found for practices and you've—er—obviously found it okay—"

"It's fantastic!" said Cho. Everyone agreed.

"It's bizarre," said Fred. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then…"

"Hey, Harry, what is this stuff?" asked Dean, pointing to all the instruments.

"Dark Detectors," said Harry, stepping between the cushions to reach them. "Basically they show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to reply on them too much, they can be fooled…" He turned to face everyone. "Well, I've been thinking about what sort of stuff we ought to do first and—er—What, Hermione?"

Everyone now focused their attention of her.

"I think we should elect a leader," she said.

"Harry's leader," said Cho immediately.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly." She had a point. "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So—everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?"

Everyone (including Smith) put their hands up.

"Er—right, thanks. And—_what_, Hermione?"

"I also think we ought to have a name," she said cheerfully. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" said Angelina.

"Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?" said Fred.

"I was thinking," said Hermione, "more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside of meetings."

"The Defense Association?" said Cho. "The D.A. for short, so no one knows what we're talking about?"

"Yeah, the D.A.'s good," said Ginny. "The D should stand for Dumbledore."

"How about Dumbledore's Army?" said Kenshin, not thinking before he spoke.

Everyone turned to look at him. Then there was laughter and appreciative murmuring. Inwardly, he sighed in relief; he was happy he didn't say anything stupid.

"All in favor of the D.A.?" said Hermione, counting the hands. "That's a majority—motion passed!"

She pinned the piece of paper with all the names on it on the wall, _Dumbledore's Army_ now written across the top.

"Right," said Harry once that was all over and done with, "shall we get to practicing then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is _Expelliarmus_, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful—"

"Oh _please_," said Smith. "I don't think _Expelliarmus _is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I've used it against him," said Harry. "It saved my life last June."

The room was silent. Smith looked at him stupidly.

"If you think it's beneath you, you can leave," said Harry. No one moved.

"Okay, I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

"Want to work together?" Kenshin asked Hermione, though he then felt stupid, realizing that she and Ron were most likely going to work together. He was saved though, by Lavender, surprisingly.

"Ron, want to be my partner?" she asked, completely ignoring Hermione and Kenshin who stood in between them.

After a moment, Ron nodded. "Sure," he said, and followed her off.

"That was…interesting," said Kenshin.

"Yes, I would have to agree with you on that. Now, shall we start?"

"Oh, yeah," he said and they separated, standing across from each other.

"_Expelliarmus!_" they both shouted at once. The spells hit each other and ricocheted off in different directions. Kenshin's hit a book shelf; Hermione's hit Smith's wand. They both laughed.

They tried again, with the same effect, though the spells now hit different objects. Then again: same thing. It went on three times before Kenshin finally said the spell a split second before his friend, causing her wand to spin from her hand. He waited for her to pick it up. The only problem was that he expected her to walk back to their little area before saying the spell (it was the most Hermione-like thing to do); instead she turned around and shouted the spell immediately.

Out of simple reflex he didn't block it. Rather than do that, he dodged it, moving out of the way before it could hit him. Harry at this point was right next to them. And he was staring. Looking to his right, Kenshin saw that Hermione was too.

"Whoa," said Harry, standing still. "How did you that?"

"I figured out which way the spell was coming from and moved so that it didn't hit me?" he said, though it was more of a question than a statement.

"Mind giving a lesson on that one week?" asked Harry.

"That would be wonderful!" said Hermione. "A great idea."

"Um, I'm not sure that everyone would be able to do it," said Kenshin, now incredibly awkward. "It takes really quick reflexes…wouldn't a Shield Charm be better?"

"Please, just one lesson?" asked Harry. Kenshin shook his head. The other boy sighed. "Okay, fine. I need a whistle." One appeared beside him. "That's useful." He picked it up and blew on it. Everyone stopped

"That wasn't bad," said Harry, "but there's definite room for improvement." Smith glared, as was expected. "Let's try again…"

And he moved away. Hermione and Kenshin started again. This spell was easy, too easy even. If he didn't know that sometimes simple things worked better than complicated things, he would probably wonder how this saved Harry's life. Magic was a bit like swordplay—different situations called for different moves (or spells). Glancing over, he saw his friend talking to Cho.

"Hey, Hermione, look," he said, and motioned in that direction.

"Do you think they're going to date?" she asked, turning back to face him. They both tried the spell again, though they connected and bounced off each other again.

"I don't know," he answered. She rolled her eyes.

"I should've figured," she said, "that asking another boy would be a bad idea." He shrugged. "I think they should, though, because in a year as bad as this one, everyone needs someone."

"He has R—us, though, doesn't he?" he said, stopping himself from saying 'Ron and you'. She would have corrected him anyway. And besides, they'd referred to him as a friend enough times to warrant an 'us'.

"That's not what I mean," she said. "I mean a different sort of someone."

"Okay, now you're not making any sense."

"Though you may not be a typical boy, you are equally oblivious in certain areas."

"I'll take your word for it," he said, confused.

All of the sudden Hermione turned back to Harry's direction. "Hey, Harry," she yelled, "have you checked the time?"

Harry checked his watch then looked up again. He blew the whistle. Once again, everyone stopped.

"Well, that was pretty good," he said, "but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!" said Dean and several people agreed.

Angelina cut in, "The Quidditch season's about to start, we need team practices, too!"

"Next Wednesday night, then," said Harry. "And we can decide on additional meetings then…Come on, we'd better get going…"

The four of them waited until everyone left in threes and fours, back down to their common rooms. Hermione turned to Harry once everyone was gone and said, "That was really, really, good, Harry."

"Yeah, it was!" said Ron.

"I agree," said Kenshin. "But weren't we going to test out if this could open up to other places?"

"Oh, yeah, I completely forgot," said Harry. "Where should we try?"

"Well, everyone in our dorm room is in the D.A., right?" said Ron. "And girls are allowed in boy's dorms, so why don't we try there?"

"Good idea," said Harry. They all turned to the door and thought about it.

After a few seconds, they went up to the door and pulled it open. Hermione gave a squeal of happiness, as they entered out between Harry's bed and Ron's bed. They exited and the door melted into the wall behind them. Neville, who was in there, stared at them in bewilderment.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

"From the Room of Requirements," answered Hermione. "It can apparently open up anywhere as long as you think about it. That's how we'll have everyone leave next time."

"Sounds like a good idea," said Kenshin, sitting down on Harry's bed next to the boy. She sat on his other side, then Ron beside her. Neville came over and sat across from them on Ron's bed.

"I had a lot of fun tonight, Harry," said Neville. "I think it's a good thing that we're doing this."

"Yeah, can't have Umbridge ruin Hogwarts, can we?" said Harry.

"No way I'm letting that happen," said Ron. "Not while I'm still alive."

"Don't say that," said Kenshin. "If Umbridge finds out, we won't be alive much longer." Everyone laughed weakly because there was something true about that statement.

"And the Ministry can't be blind forever," said Hermione. "Once this comes out into the open, what we're doing is going to come in handy."

"Do you think," asked Neville in a small voice, "that the people who originally fought You-Know-Who…would be proud of us?"

"Of course, Neville," answered Harry. "Of course they would be proud." Neville gave him a smile.

The other three stayed quiet.

.

There was no party in the Gryffindor common room. This was the first time that she could remember. They'd won the Quidditch game—they almost always did. And there was almost always a celebration. Not this time. This time walking into the Gryffindor common room was walking into the home of someone who recently died. No one was smiling. Even voices were hushed down to soft murmurs. Hermione hadn't felt this bad in a long, long time.

"Banned," she heard Angelina say in a miserable voice. "_Banned_. No Seeker and no Beaters…What on earth are we going to do?"

Hermione looked at Kenshin, who was still with her. Ron was nowhere to be seen and Harry with the Quidditch team. Sure, they were there too, but they were stuck listening.

"It's just so unfair," said Alicia. "I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned _him_?"

"No," said Ginny, who was sitting next to her. "He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."

"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!" said Alicia angrily.

"It not my fault I didn't," said Fred. "I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back."

Silence fell. Hermione watched Crookshanks jump from chair to chair, trying to get the Snitch Harry caught earlier. It was zooming around, always out of her cat's reach.

"I'm going to bed," said Angelina after a while. "Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream…Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet…"

Soon after everyone left for bed. Eventually it was only Harry, Hermione, and Kenshin left. She didn't know what to say. Was there anything to say? Quidditch, she suspected, was Harry's true joy in life. And now it was gone. It was what tied him to his father, after all, and it was something he felt he could be good at. How could she reassure that kind of loss?

Finally, unable to take the silence anymore, she asked quietly, "Have you seen Ron?" Harry shook his head. "I think he's avoiding us. Where do you think he—?"

As she said it the Fat Lady swung open and Ron came in. He was pale and snow dusted his hair. When he saw the three of them, he stopped.

"Where have you been?" she asked, standing. There was only so much worrying she could take in one night!

"Walking," he answered. He was still in his Quidditch robes.

"You look frozen," she said. "Come and sit down!"

Ron slowly walked over and sat in an armchair. It was the furthest one from Harry. This was ridiculous. Crookshanks was still jumping around.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"What for?" asked Harry.

"For thinking I can play Quidditch," answered Ron. "I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."

"If you resign," said Harry and Hermione remembered Ron didn't know, "there'll only be three plays left on the team." Ron looked up, confused. Harry continued, "I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George."

"What?" said Ron, eyes going wide with shock.

As quickly as she could and in as little words as possible, Hermione explained. There was no way Harry would be able to say it again. Kenshin shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable. She'd forgotten how much he hated awkward situations.

"This is all my fault—" started Ron.

"You didn't _make _me punch Malfoy," said Harry, cutting him off.

"—if I wasn't so lousy at Quidditch—"

"—it's got nothing to do with that—"

"—it was that song that wound me up—"

"—it would've wound anyone up—"

Something was moving outside and it caught her eye. She stood up and walked over. For a few seconds the two boys continued until Kenshin finally cut in.

"Drop it, both of you!" he yelled as Hermione realized _exactly _who was moving around outside. "Look, Ron, it's bad enough for Harry without you blaming yourself for everything. Harry, this isn't a lifetime ban. I know it's horrible, but this is exactly what she wants!"

"It's not a lifetime ban?" she heard Harry say.

"You said it yourself, did you?" said Kenshin. "The Defense Against the Dark Arts position is cursed. Umbridge is going to be gone by the end of this year whether I have to annoy her to the point that she quits or if it's for a different reason. Do you really think that once the 'High Inquisitor' gone that McGonagall will keep you off the team?"

"You have a point," said Harry and he didn't sound nearly as morose anymore.

The Ron said miserably, "This is still the worst I've ever felt in my life."

"Well," said Hermione, turning around, trembling. "I can think of one thing that may cheery everyone up."

"Oh yeah?" said Harry, looking in her direction.

"Yeah," said Hermione, looking straight back, a smile starting to spread across her face. "Hagrid's back."

For a moment, nothing. Then:

"Wait here, I'm getting my invisibility cloak." Harry ran upstairs, faster than Hermione had ever seen him.

"I'll be right back, too!" she said, trying to scream with happiness. Hagrid was back, Hagrid was back! Quickly, she went up to her room, trying to not disturb the other girls as she grabbed her hat, scarf, and gloves. Then she zoomed back downstairs, where the boys where waiting for her. "What, it's cold!" she said in response to Ron's impatient look.

Without further ado, they crept outside, throwing the cloak over themselves. It was considerably harder than it used to be, since Ron had grown so much and there was a fourth person. Luckily Kenshin was so thin and short that it didn't make _that _much of a difference. Even so, they were uncomfortably squished. She couldn't wait until they were at Hagrid's.

When they reached the cabin, Harry pounded on the door three times. Hermione was shaking from the cold, but not as badly as the boy next to her. Since Hagrid didn't answer, Harry yelled, "Hagrid, it's us!"

"Shoulda known," said the voice of one of her favorite people in the world. "Bin home three seconds…Out of the way, Fang…_Out of the way_, yeh dozy dog…."

They all waiting excitedly as the door opened…

Suddenly Hermione screamed, horrified.

"Merlin's beard, keep it down!" said Hagrid. "Under that cloak, are yeh? Well, get in, get in!"

"I'm sorry!" said Hermione as they slid inside. "I just—oh, _Hagrid_!"

"It's nuthin', it's nuthin'!" he said, shutting the door and closing the curtain. But that…that was far from nothing.

Hagrid was a mess—his hair was stuck to his head with blood. His eye was blackened and puffy. The rest of his face of covered in bruises as well. Cuts, too, were on his face and hands, several of which were still dripping blood. And the way he was moving implied broken ribs.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked.

"Told yeh, _nuthin_'," said Hagrid. "Want a cuppa?"

"Come off it," said Ron and Hermione couldn't agree more, "you're in a right state!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, I'm fine," he said and then smiled down at them. "Blimey, it's good ter see you four again—had good summers, did yeh?"

"Hagrid, you've been attacked!" said Ron.

"Fer the las' time, it's nuthin'!" Hagrid said.

"It's far from nothing," said Kenshin. Hagrid looked down at him. "You're ribs are broken, those multiple small cuts are enough that you can bleed out, the blackened eye looks like a direct hit to the face, as do the rest of the facial bruises. The hand bruises look like you were trying to block a blow, which would explain why you're moving so oddly. If I had to guess, you have hairline fractures on your phalanges, and your right radius, which are defensive wounds."

Hermione stared at him, as did everyone else.

"Say that in English, please," said Ron weakly.

"I did," answered Kenshin, looking back at all of them. "What? I'm a swordsman, I naturally know every bone in the human body. They were the only words I could say in English before I came here, besides yes, thank you, sandwich, and cranberry—I can say the human skeleton in Spanish, Chinese, and Japanese, too. My teacher taught me…don't know why he bothered in different languages, though. Besides that, I couldn't say anything else, though…"

"An' yeh can tell wha's wron' with me?" said Hagrid.

"Well, yes, I've also learned how to recognize injuries, mostly because I made them."

"That's just scary…" said Harry.

Seeing that their friend was uncomfortable, she turned and said, "You ought to go and see Madam Pomfrey, Hagrid. Some of those cuts look nasty."

"I'm dealin' with it, all righ'?" Oh, he could say whatever he wanted, but he was _far _from "dealing with it".

He walked across the room to the table and took a tea towel off of something. What was revealed was a raw, bloody, green-looking steak that was, for lack of a better word, huge.

"You're not going to eat that, are you, Hagrid?" asked Ron. "It looks poisonous."

"It's s'posed ter look like that, it's dragon mean," he said. "An' I didn' get it ter eat it."

He then proceeded to pick it up and put it over the left side of his face. He let out an exhale of satisfaction.

"Tha's better," he said, sitting down. "It helps with the stingin', yeh know."

"So are you going to tell us what's happened to you?" Harry asked.

"Can', Harry. Top secret. More'n me job's worth ter tell yeh that."

"Did the giants beat you up?" Hermione asked. Hagrid made a noise of surprise.

"Giants? Who said anythin' about giants? Who yeh bin talkin' to? Who's told yeh what I've—who's said I've bin—eh?"

"We guessed," she said.

"Oh, yeh did, did yeh?" he said.

"It's kinda…obvious," said Ron. The other two boys nodded.

Hagrid glared at them, tossed the steak on the table, and went to the kettle. Oh, this was terrible. The last thing she wanted was to see him like this, all beat up and covered in injuries.

"Never known kids like you three—four, no'—fer knowin' more'n yeh oughta," he said, filling his large mugs with tea. "An' I'm not complimentin' yeh, neither. Nosy, some'd call it. Interferin'."

"So you really have found the giants?" said Kenshin, sitting down. Hermione sat down next to him and Ron and Harry next to her.

"Yeah, all righ'," he said. "I have."

"How?" said Hermione, even though she already figured she knew the answer.

"Well, they're not that difficult ter find, ter be honest," said Hagrid. "Pretty big, see."

"Where are they?" said Ron.

"Mountains," answered Hagrid, which explained absolutely nothing about anything.

"So why don't Muggles—?"

"They do," he said. "O'ny their deaths are always put down ter mountaineerin' accidents, aren' they?"

"Did you bring a giant home with you or something?" asked Kenshin. "Most of the cuts that're still bleeding were made within the last twelve hours, probably less."

"'Course not," said Hagrid. "They jus' reopen'd." The redhead looked back at him skeptically.

"Come on, Hagrid," said Ron. "Tell us about being attacked giants and Harry can tell you about being attacked by dementors—"

Hagrid simultaneously choked on his tea and dropped the steak, covering the table with dragon's blood, spit, and tea. The steak fell to the floor.

"Whadda yeh mean, attacked by dementors?" he asked.

"Didn't you know?" she said him, surprised.

"I don' know anything that's been happenin' since I left. I was on a secret mission, wasn' I, didn' wan' owls followin' me all over the place—ruddy dementors! Yeh're not serious?"

"Yes, I am, they turned in Little Whinging and attacked my cousin and me, and then the Ministry of Magic expelled me—"

"WHAT?"

"—and I had to go to a hearing and everything, but tell us about the giants first."

"You were _expelled_?"

"Tell us about your summer and I'll tell you about mine."

"And about Umbridge," added Kenshin under his breath. Hermione nodded, though Hagrid didn't seem to notice.

Instead he said, "Oh, all righ'." Then he bent down and tugged the dragon steak out of Fang's mouth.

"Oh, Hagrid, don't it's not hygien—" Hermione started, but he'd already flopped the steak back on his face. It was rather revolting.

"Well," he began after a large gulp of tea, "we sent off right after term ended—"

"Madam Maxime went with you, then?" she said.

"Yeah, tha's right," said Hagrid and he gave a soft smile. "Yeah, it was jus' the pair of us. An' I'll tell yeh this, she's not afraid of roughin' it, Olympe. Yeh know, she's a fine, well-dressed woman, an' knowin' where we was goin' I wondered 'ow she'd feel abou' clamberin' over boulders an' sleepin' in caves an' tha', bu' she never complained once."

Hermione now had a new respect for the woman, one that she'd lost last year after she was so mean to Hagrid.

"You knew where you were going?" asked Harry. "You knew where the giants were?"

"Well, Dumbledore knows, an' he told us," said Hagrid.

"Are they hidden?" asked Ron. "Is it a secret, where they are?"

"It's pretty hard to hide a population of giants, Ron," said Kenshin. The other redhead paused, then nodded in agreement.

"He's righ'," Hagrid said, motioning to Kenshin. "It's jus' that mos' wizards aren' bothered where they are, s' long as it's a good long way away. But where they are's very difficult to get ter, fer humans anyway, so we needed Dumbledore's instructions. Took us abou' a month ter get there—"

"A _month_," said Ron, as if they idea of a trip taking more than a half hour was prosperous. "But—why couldn't you just grab a Portkey or something?"

Hermione didn't like the way Hagrid looked at Ron—it was nothing short of a look of pity.

"We're bein' watching, Ron," he answered.

"What d'you mean?"

"Yeh don' understand," said Hagrid. "The Ministry's keepin' an eye on Dumbledore an' anyone they reckon's in league with him, an'—"

"We know all about that," said Harry. "We know about the Ministry watching Dumbledore—"

"So you couldn't use magic to get there?" asked Ron. "You had to act like Muggles _all the way_?"

"Well, not exactly," said Hagrid. "We jus' had ter be careful, 'cause Olympe an' me, we stick out a bit, so we're not too hard ter follow. We was pretendin' we was goin' on holiday together, so we got inter France an' we made like we was headin' fer where Olympe's school is, 'cause we knew we was bein' tailed by someone from the Ministry—"

"Do you know who was following you?" asked Kenshin. Hagrid shook his head.

"We had to go slow, cause I'm not really s'posed ter use magic and we knew the Ministry'd be lookin' fer a reason ter run us in. But we managed ter give the berk tailin' us a slip round abou' Dee-John—"

"Oh, Dijon?" said Hermione, suddenly excited. She loved that place. "I've been there on holiday, did you see—?"

Kenshin elbowed her lightly and hissed, "Now's not the time." She quickly fell silent.

"We chanced a bit o' magic after that, and wasn' a bad journey. Ran inter a couple o' mad trolls on the Polish border, an' I had a slight disagreement with a vampire in a pub in Minsk, but apart from tha', couldn't'a bin smoother."

He drank a bit of tea and told them his story. He told them everything, or at least what seemed like everything to Hermione. And it was horrifying.

"So Voldemort"—Hagrid and Ron winced—"got the support Dumbledore should've gotten and the Ministry is still oblivious and refuses to listen?" said Kenshin. "This is why I hate the government."

"Bunch o' idiots," said Hagrid. The four of them nodded.

"We have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," said Kenshin, "who will most likely come to 'inspect' your class."

"Wha' teacher 'as the righ' to inspec' my class?" he asked. Hermione sighed, and explained about the Ministry's interference at Hogwarts, about how she was made High Inquisitor, about how she acted towards Harry, and finally, about Kenshin's incessant need to annoy her. Hagrid turned to the smallest boy of the group and said very seriously, "Yeh shouldn' mess with her, Kenshin. It's a bad idea ter anger a politician."

In response he received a shrug. "I've dealt with worse," he said. "Much worse."

"Even so—"

Anything else he could have said was stopped by a loud knocking on his door. Hermione gasped and dropped her mug, breaking it. Fang barked. The five of them looked at the window beside the doorway. It was the shadow of someone very, very familiar.

"_It's her_!" Ron whispered, horrified.

"Get under here!" Harry said, throwing the cloak around all of them. They squished close together so they could fit, and pulled their legs in. Somehow they were completely covered. Miraculous. "Hagrid, hide our mugs!"

Hagrid did as instructed—he grabbed the three boys' mugs and shoved them under the cushion in Fang's bed. Then he pushed his dog away from the door and opened it.

Umbridge stood there, wearing a green cloak and matching hat with earflaps. She leaned back, looking at Hagrid's face.

"_So_," she said and she said it loudly and slowly, "You're Hagrid, are you?" What a terrible woman. She strolled inside. "Get away," she said to Fang, waving her hand at him.

"Er—I don' want ter be rude," said Hagrid, "but who are you?"

"My name is Dolores Umbridge." The gamekeeper's eyes went directly to the corner where the four of them sat. Luckily this was at a moment where Umbridge's eyes were sweeping the cabin. He snapped his eyes back.

"Dolores Umbridge?" Hagrid said. "I thought you were one o' them Ministry—don' you work with Fudge?"

"I was Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, yes," she said, now pacing the cabin. On instinct, the four tried to squeeze even closer. "I am now the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—"

"Tha's brave of yeh," said Hagrid, "there's not many'd take tha' job anymore—"

"—and Hogwarts High Inquisitor," said Umbridge as if she hadn't heard him.

"Oh."

"What might that be?" she asked, pointing to Hermione's broken mug. No, she hadn't had time to clean it!

"Oh," said Hagrid again, and glanced in the corner, "oh, tha' was…was Fang. He broke a mug. So I had ter use this one instead." He pointed to _his _mug, which was still sitting on the table.

"I heard voices," she said.

"I was talkin' ter Fang," said Hagrid.

"And was he talking back to you?" she asked. Oh, Hermione would slap her if she had the chance.

"Well…in a manner o' speakin'. I sometimes say Fang's near enough human—"

"There are three sets of footprints in the snow leading from the castle doors to your cabin."

Hermione gasped—a bad decision—but was quickly silenced when Harry put a hand over her mouth. At the same moment, though, Fang had sniffed, covering up the sound.

"Well, I on'y jus' got back," said Hagrid, moving his hand towards his unpacked travel gear. "Maybe someone came ter call earlier an' I missed 'em."

"There are no footsteps leading away from your cabin door." Oh no, no, no, no!

"Well I…I don't know what that'd be…Erm…" He glanced unhelpfully in their direction.

Umbridge suddenly turned around and walked the length of the cabin. She checked in the cupboards, in the cauldron, under the bed. Hermione just had enough time to pull the invisibility cloak over the soles of their shoes and hold it there before she looked under the table. When the teacher walked away, she released it.

"What has happened to you?" she asked. "How did you sustain those injuries?"

"Oh, I…had a bit of an accident," Hagrid answered, which wasn't really an answer at all.

"What sort of accident?"

"I-I tripped." This wasn't going well at all! If only she could find a way to stop it.

"You tripped?" she said.

"Yeah, tha's right. Over…over a friend's broomstick. I don' fly, meself. Well, look at the size o' me, I don' reckon there's a broomstick that'd hold me. Friend o' mind breeds Abraxan horses, I dunno if you've ever seen 'em, big beats, winged, yeh know, I've had a bit of a ride on one o' them an' it was—"

"Where have you been?" Umbridge asked, cutting him off.

"Where've I…?"

"Been, yes. Term started more than two months ago. Another teacher has had to cover your classes. None of your colleagues has been able to give me any information on your whereabouts. You left no address. Where have you been?"

There was a pause. Then:

"I—I've been away from me health." That was by far the worst lie Hermione had ever heard, even worse than the tripping one.

"For your health," said Umbridge as her eyes trailed over him.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "bit o'—o' fresh hair, yeh know—"

"Yes, as a gamekeeper fresh air must be so difficult to come by." How was it possible that one woman could get worse and worse and never once be better? Not even for a single moment?

"Well—change o' scene—yeh know—"

"Mountain scenery?" said Umbridge before Hagrid could continue.

Terrified now, Hermione thought, _She knows_.

"Mountains?" It was obvious to them that he was thinking fast. Hopefully it wasn't as obvious to her. "Nope, South of France fer me. Bit o' sun an'…an' sea."

"Really? You don't have much of a tan."

"Yeah…well..sensitive skin," said Hagrid. When he smiled, Hermione saw that two teeth were missing. This was a hopeless situation.

"I shall, of course, be informing the Minister of your late return," she said.

Hagrid answered with a nod, "Righ'."

"You ought to know too that as High Inquisitor it is my unfortunate"—Unfortunate? For everyone else, yes, but not for her—"but necessary duty to inspect my fellow teachers. So I daresay we shall meet again soon enough."

With that, she turned and walked to the door.

"You're inspecting us?" said Hagrid before she could leave.

"Oh, yes," said Umbridge, opening the door. "The minister is determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, Hagrid. Good night." Then she left.

Hermione stopped Harry from pulling off the cloak by saying, "Not yet, she might not be gone yet."

Hagrid, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, pulled the curtain back an inch or so. "She's goin' back ter the castle," he said quietly. "Blimey, inspectin' people, is she? Yeh weren't lyin'."

"Yeah," said Harry, pulling off the cloak. "Trelawney's on probation already…"

"Um…what sort of thing are you planning to do with us in class, Hagrid?" asked Hermione, worried. If he messed up in front of her…if something got back to her…

"Oh, don' you worry abou' that, I've got a great load o' lessons planned," he answered. "I've bin keepin' couple o' creatures saved fer yer O.W.L year, you wait, they're somethin' really special."

"Erm…special in what way?" Though she asked it, she was afraid to know.

"I'm not sayin'," said Hagrid, "I don' want ter spoil the surprise."

"Look, Hagrid," she said, now panicking. "Professor Umbridge won't be happy if you bring in anything to class that's too dangerous—"

"Dangerous?" said Hagrid and he looked honestly confused, which frightened her. "Don' be silly, I wouldn' give yeh anythin' dangerous! I mean, all righ', they can look after themselves—"

"Hagrid!" Why could he not understand this? "You've got to pass Umbridge's inspection, and to do that it would really be better if she saw you teaching us how to look after porkocks, how to tell the difference between knarls and hedgehogs, stuff like that!"

"But tha's not very interesting', Hermione," said Hagrid. "The stuff I've got's much more impressive, I've bin bringin' 'em on fer years, I reckon I've got the on'y domestic herd in Britain—"

"Hagrid," said Kenshin, "I'm going to give you a lesson using two examples. Also, remind me to teach you how to lie some time. Anyway, one of you come here and stand next to me."

Hermione exchanged perplexed looks with the other two boys before Ron went over.

"What's this about?" he asked, but Kenshin continued, "Now, just so you know, Umbridge loves the Slytherins, acts like their gods or something. I, on the other hand, annoy her to the point that she argues back. She hates me. So for a moment, pretend Ron's Malfoy—"

"Ugh, why do I have to Malfoy?"

"—and I'm still me. You want to pass her inspection. If you had to teach a lesson on either Malfoy or me, who would you pick?"

"Yer more interestin'," said Hagrid. "So I'd pick you."

"Wrong, to pass her inspection you would have to pick Ron, who's currently Malfoy."

"So yeh wan' me ter pick wha' she likes?" he asked. Kenshin nodded. "But wha' she wants is borin'."

"You have to pick what she likes or you'll fail the inspection," said Hermione. "You'd pick him." She pointed to Ron.

"Hey, why am I still Malfoy?"

"Don't worry, I'm about to change you into a flobberworm."

"That's only slightly better!"

"Now, I'm a skrewt," said Kenshin, pointing to himself. "Ron's a flobberworm. You'd rather teach a lesson on the skrewt, but what would you teach to pass Umbridge's inspection? Ron or me?"

"Well, I would teach Ron," answered Hagrid.

"There, that's what she would want," he said. "Just remember this: do what she wants. You'll get fired otherwise."

"And we don't want to see you sacked, Hagrid!" said Harry.

"Please, listen to what we're saying!"

"Lis'en, it's bin a long day an' it's late," he said, patting her on the shoulder. She felt her knees buckle and she hit the floor. "Oh—sorry—" He pulled her up. "Look, don' you go worryin' abou' me, I promise yeh I've got really good stuff planned fer yer lesson now I'm back…Now you lot had better get back to the castle, an' don' forget ter wipe yer footprint out behind yeh!"

"I dunno if we got through to him," said Ron a while later after they'd left. Hermione kept casting an Obliteration Charm to get rid of any sign of them.

"Then I'll go back again tomorrow," she said, completely determined. "I'll plan his lessons for him if I have to. I don't care if she throws out Trelawney, but she's not taking Hagrid!"

.

Tuesday afternoon found the four of them in the forbidden forest with the rest of their Care of Magical Creatures class. A slab of meat sat in the middle of a clearing. Hagrid stood in the middle, making what sounded a bit like birdcalls. Umbridge was nowhere to be seen. Though the other three looked relieved, Kenshin wasn't; she wasn't here yet, but she could come soon.

Suddenly a twig snapped. He looked to the left, in the space between two yew trees. After a moment, the horses that pulled the school carriages appeared. Though they weren't what could be consider appealing to the eyes, they weren't horrifying either. Interesting looking, more like it, with their skeletal bodies, dragon-like face and neck, and the large wings. For a moment it looked around at the class, then moved to the meat. There it bent down and began to eat.

Next to him, Ron leaned over to Harry and asked quietly, "Why doesn't Hagrid call again?"

Kenshin looked over at him, confused. How could he not see them when they were right there? Then, looking around at the rest of class, he saw they all seemed as confused as his friend. Well, this was certainly…odd.

"Oh, an' here comes another one!" said Hagrid and a second emerged from the trees. Actually, they were fascinating. Possibly the most fascinating magical creature he'd seen so far. Not that it was saying much, since he hadn't seen many. "Now…put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

Kenshin, Harry, and Neville all raised their hands.

"Yeah…yeah, I knew the two o' yeh would be able ter see them," he said, nodding in Harry and Kenshin's direction. They lowered their hands. "An' you too, Neville, eh? An'—"

"Excuse me," said Malfoy, as snotty as usual, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"

In response, Hagrid just pointed to the meat on the ground. The class stared and Kenshin realized how odd it must be for them; they didn't see the animals, after all. To them it was bits of food disappearing into nothing, obviously being chewed.

"What's doing it?" Parvati asked, sounding frightened. "What's eating it?"

"Thestrals," said Hagrid and Hermione gave a sound of sudden understanding. "Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows—?"

"But they're really, really unlucky!" said Pavarti. "They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune to people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once—"

"No, no, no," said Hagrid, "tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! 'Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pulling the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate—an' here's another couple, look—"

Two more horses joined the clearing, passing close to Pavarti.

"I think I felt something!" she said. "I think it's near me!"

"Don't worry, it won' hurt yeh," said Hagrid. "Righ', now, who can tell my why some o' you can see them an' some can't?"

Hermione, naturally, was the one who raised her hand.

"Go on then," he said with a large grin.

"The only people who can see thertsals are people," she said, "who have seen death."

"That's exactly right," said Hagrid, suddenly serious, "ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, thertsals—"

"_Hem, hem._"

Umbridge had arrived, along with the noise of certain doom. Hagrid looked around, having never heard the sound before.

"_Hem, hem_."

"Oh, hello!" said Hagrid, finally seeing her.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" she asked, loudly and slowly. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid, not fazed. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see—or, I dunno—can you? We're doin' thestrals today—"

"I'm sorry?" said Umbridge, cupping her hand to her ear. Kenshin had never been so annoyed in his life, which was saying something, since he very, very rarely lost his temper. Actually, sometimes he wondered if he even had a temper. Then moments like this would happen and he would remember that he did. "What did you say?" Hagrid looked down at her, perplexed.

"Er—thestrals!" he called. "Big—er—winged horses, yeh know!"

To demonstrate he flapped his arms. The professor raised her eyebrows and spoke as she wrote on the paper attached to her clipboard. She read aloud, "_'has…to..resort…to…crude…sigh…language…_"

"Now that's just low," said Kenshin, surprisingly not able to help himself. Umbridge's eyes snapped up to look at him.

"Oh, you're here. How sweet," she said, putting on her nicest smile. "I don't believe this is the—"

"Okay, I know that you're a high ranking politician in a corrupt government bent on trying to ruin a perfectly fine school, but you can at least have morals. Or a little tact, if you can't manage that."

The class gasped. Hagrid said, "Now, I thin' tha's—"

"Hagrid, she's trying to make you out to seem like a dangerous, idiot of a half-breed, which you aren't. You can do with a little defense right now."

"You are very outspoken, Mr. Himura. I believe a few bouts of detention will do."

"Haven't you noticed that having me write lines in my own blood"—The class once again gasped, including the Slytherins—"has literally no effect on me whatsoever. You can't do much to knock my opinions out of me, seeing as I am a leaving, breathing, functional creature living in the world."

No one spoke. No one tried to stop him, even her, who stood there, struck silent. "The only way you can possibly faze me is frightening me to death—and yes, that is possible. Fear speeds up the heart and if it gets fast enough, the person will have a stroke and die. Then you'll be able to see these horses, just like me. If you want, I can supply you with my worst fear."

"Now, young man—"

"Whatever happened to me being a child, Professor? Or have you decided to change your attitude now that you've seen I can fight back."

"You are terribly misbehaved—"

"Only around you, I can say that much. I feel no need to act this way around anyone else, and that's saying something, considering I've been obedient my entire life."

"Oh, really? And why was that? What event made you the way you are today?"

"I have no reason to share that information with—"

"Himura here was—"

"Mr. Malfoy, I can fight my own battles thank you very much," said Umbridge, going red in the face. "Now, Mr. Himura, what makes you act this way towards me?"

"Besides the fact that you're a hypocrite, bias, and have the mindset of future Death Eater?"—Another gasp from the class—"I would have to say it's because you love torture. You aren't even very good at it, either. You love being in control of the people around you, making them move like pieces on a chess board. Some people you can successfully command, but some people you can't. And you hate that.

"I must be getting under your skin right now, because I can argue back, because I won't listen to your every word. In comparison to some people out there, you're nothing but a short woman playing make-believe at being tall."

"And who are these people out there? Hm? Tell me, why can he see thertsals, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Because he—"

"Because a whole group of people was brutally slaughtered before my eyes at the age of five," Kenshin said bluntly, causing even Malfoy to shut up. No smile of satisfaction. "Good enough answer for you?"

"Is that what made you the way you are today?" she said, taking on a sympathetic tone. "That tragic event. I can get you help—"

"I don't need help, especially from _you_," he said, which made her flush with anger again. "Now walk away, Umbridge, and don't bother putting anymore teachers on probations. They're all doing a good job and we, as in the students, are learning something."

"Meet me in Dumbledore's office after class, Mr. Himura," she said, fists clenched. "And we'll sort this all out."

"By the way, Professor," he called after her as she stalked away, "my worst fear is spiders!"

There was silence. Dead, dead silence. Then:

"That…that was brilliant!"

It was a girl who said it, he wasn't sure who, but all he knew was suddenly he was being hugged by the entire Gryffindor house. He toppled over, unable to stay standing with all the weight on top of him. The Slytherins looked confused and Hagrid looked torn between happiness and disappointment. Hermione looked sad. Just sad. He gave her an apologetic and uneasy smile.

"So!" said Hagrid loudly, causing everyone to scramble off of him. "Back to thertsals."

For a moment, Kenshin felt better. A lot better. Like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He let himself smile.

Then the headache hit.


	7. Chapter 7

Here's the seventh chapter along with an explanation to his out of character-ness at the end of chapter six! I originally meant to have this conversation happen in sixth book compliment, but, eh, it worked better here. He couldn't say 'I don't want to talk about it' forever, right?

Also, Gilderoy Lockhart makes an appearance.

I don't own HP or RK.

* * *

Chapter Seven

For the second time since he came to Hogwarts, Kenshin woke up to find himself looking at the faces of Madam Pomfrey, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. For the second time since he came to Hogwarts, Kenshin woke up to find himself in the hospital wing.

"Good to see you're awake, Himura," said the school nurse as all four people leaned back. "I couldn't figure out what was wrong with you, yet again."

On instinct, his hand went up to touch his cheek, only to find that there was no bandage. So it hadn't bled. Even so, his head hurt. What happened? He pressed his palms to his eyes, the light above hurting them.

"What happened?" he asked, trying to remember. Really, this was like a flashback of last time. Though is wasn't February 25th and he had no fever, nor was his face dripping blood. Okay, maybe it wasn't _exactly _like last time, but it sure felt like it.

"Er," said Harry and looked at the other two. They were freaked out, it was obvious, and Kenshin couldn't think straight.

"Well, I'm going to go get Professor Dumbledore," said Madam Pomfrey with a sigh, "since he asked to be informed when you woke up. Now, don't do anything to stress yourself."

"I won't," he answered, keeping his palms to his eyes. Why couldn't someone shut off that light? It was so bright.

After she left, Harry once again said, "Er, what's the last thing you remember?"

He thought. And thought, but it was like there was a block on his brain. "Seeing…seeing a…a thertsal," he said. "Did I pass out or something?"

"Yes," said Hermione, sounding uncomfortable. "But it was a while after that."

"What? Why can't I remember it?"

"We, er," said Ron, "have our…guesses."

"That doesn't sound good," he said and laughed weakly, which caused his head to hurt. This was bad, really, really bad.

"Can you sit up?" asked Hermione.

"I can try," he answered and removed his hands from his eyes. Immediately he was blinded and shut them tightly. "Ow," he said, then felt like an idiot.

Instead of saying anything else, he tried to sit up, pushing off with his hands. It worked, of course, but it was incredibly painful. The simple movement jarred his head. To block out more of the light, he pulled his knees to his chest and pressed his forehead against them.

"Are you going to be okay—or, well, to say, er, relatively so?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah," he answered, focusing on breathing. He'd learned over the years that breathing helped. "Yeah, these always pass. How long have I been out?" He cringed as another bout of pain came on. "Not thirty-two hours again, right?"

"Only about an hour," said Ron. "And—"

Suddenly the hospital wing's doors opened. When he tried to lift his head to see, it hurt too much, so he stopped moving.

"He's still in a rather delicate condition, Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey to Dumbledore. Kenshin was filled was easily explained dread. If the headmaster showed up, it generally wasn't a good sign. "Do you have any idea what's happened?"

"Not in the slightest," Dumbledore answered, "but I would like to speak to him in private. If I can't do that in my office, then I would like to do it here."

"Oh, all right," said the nurse. "Pull the curtains around the bed and cast a Silencing Charm. You three—out!"

"No, they can stay," said Dumbledore. "I need someone to tell me what happened who isn't Dolores."

Umbridge? What did she have to do with anything?

_…high ranking politician in a corrupt government…_

The words ran through his mind in a whisper. Where did that come from?

The headmaster was speaking to him. It took him a moment to focus on what he was saying. "…me what happened, Mr. Himura?"

"_What_?" he said, before realizing he spoke Japanese. "Oh, sorry. I can't. The last thing I remember is seeing a thertsal."

There was a pause in which he assumed Dumbledore either nodded or shook his head. Then he said to the other three, "Can any of you tell me what happened?"

"Well, Kenshin here," said Harry, "sort of…told off Professor Umbridge when she started making Hagrid seem…not too bright."

_…dangerous, idiot, half-breed, which you aren't…do with a little defense…_

Another whispered statement flashed across his mind.

"But, you see, Professor," said Hermione, still sounding uncomfortable, "Kenshin's eyes turned, well, yellow. I, er, don't think Professor Umbridge noticed; I only did because I was right next to him. And we suspect that when his—I mean your—eyes change color it's, well, because of a personality change."

Kenshin attempted to look up again out of an act of stupidity, but couldn't.

"I know my personality changes," he said in a shaking voice because it just hurt _so much_. "I already knew that. It's just—just never happened without reason." Under his breath he added, "Then again, I've never had this before."

Somehow Dumbledore managed to hear him. "Never had what before?" he asked sharply. Kenshin cringed, knowing the old man was angry. Well, he had reason to be.

"If I say I don't want to talk about it, will you let it go?" he asked quietly, hoping desperately that he wouldn't have to explain. This was so stupid! Why did this alternate self have to exist anyway? All it did was cause problems. And headaches. Mostly headaches.

"I think you already know the answer to that," said Dumbledore. Kenshin shook slightly. Well, if a story—and a true one, since he had a feeling the man would be able to tell if he was lying—was what it took to stay here, then he'd bare with it. "Your teacher said you would be safe here."

Suddenly there was a jolting feeling in his stomach. "What, did I attack someone?"

"No," answered Dumbledore. "Not physically anyway. Verbally you did quite the number on her."

"I don't even remember what I said, Professor."

"I am not able to tell you the answer to that, as I only heard it from one source. What I do know, though, is that you stopped Mr. Malfoy from telling the teaching why you could see thertsals. Instead, she said, you answered."

"What did I say?" he asked, scared that he admitted something. He wanted Advil or anything that could knock this migraine out.

"You said that it was because a whole group of people were killed in front of you when you were five," said Ron. "We thought you said it to stop Malfoy from saying anything else…Well, it certainly worked…"

"I said that in front of the class?" This was horrible—that was one of the things that he liked to keep to himself.

"Yes," said Hermione softly. Then she added, "But that was it. Besides that, everything you said was about Umbridge. You didn't say anything…bad."

That was bad enough, though. What would everyone do now? He'd say something that could be read as leaving him emotionally disturbed. Which he was, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he didn't want people to know he was emotionally screwed up.

"Now, Mr. Himura, can you please tell us why you have such a hatred for Professor Umbridge?"

"Um, well," he began, paused, then took a deep a breath. "Well, my parents weren't the nicest of people. They didn't really pay attention to me—it's a kind of abuse, but I don't know what it is in English. Anyway, so my neighbors figured out after seeing me on my own so much. They called the people who are supposed to help in those situations—find the kids new homes. So, um, they didn't tell my parents until the day of.

"So-so my parents went over there and started to yell at the neighbors. I was playing with something in the front yard and a car pulled up. It was the woman who was supposed to help. She asked where my parents were so I t-told her they were next door. I thought she wanted to talk to them, but it, well, turned out she didn't. I don't really know what happened after that.

"You see, back when I was four, there was this—this cult made up of mostly government officials and a few others. I don't know why, but th-they decided to take in what were basically—not basically, what _were_ slaves. And they mostly took from the place where kids go if they're parents either die or do something wrong. But, um, a lot of those new parents called their kids in as missing. My parents didn't care enough, the place didn't know I was supposed to be there, and my neighbors thought I was taken care of and all right.

"The woman who took me was also the person who ended up, well, um, well, I guess you say…owning me? Anyway, so her mindset and the way she acted mirrored Professor Umbridge's somehow and, as you can guess, she wasn't very…you know. Whenever I did something bad, like drop a plate or wake her up too early or something like that, she would drag me out to the p-pool and told me if I screamed, she'd…You get the gist. And she'd make me climb the ladder to the thing that you use to jump into the pool. T-the tall one.

"She climbed up after me and would push me in. I was so small that the clothes were almost like weights. And I was only four, so I couldn't swim and—and I was given fair warning, I shouldn't've kept messing up. I knew what was going to happen. It was fair, back then, anyway.

"So I guess whenever Professor Umbridge acts like…herself, it just comes out because I couldn't do anything back then but I can now. And the group of people I saw killed were the cultists and a few slaves. I'm the only survivor."

After a moment of nothing and Kenshin trying to keep his breathing regular, Harry finally said, "That wasn't fair, you know that, right?"

"I was given a warning," he said miserably. "I'd say that was fair."

"A warning doesn't make something—"

"Last year," said Hermione in a small voice, "you said your boggart would turn into a spider because it couldn't show you drowning. Was this what you were talking about?"

"Yeah." He paused. "So, Professor, am I expelled for being a danger to the students?" It was a serious question, not the mocking kind that he used around _her_.

"No," said Dumbledore and Kenshin heard him stand up. "I'd say you're perfectly all right. Dolores and I have made an agreement, though, that if you talk during her class or cause trouble again, you will be. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Now, I suggest you get some rest. Professor Umbridge has given you detentions for the next two months. I spoke to her about the blood quill, but I'm not sure how much that will do. Unfortunately, with the Ministry constricting my power here, there's I can do but try to stop it.

"Also"—He cleared his throat—"I'd have to say as a headmaster that I'm very ashamed in what you did." Yeah, he expected that one. Then a hand found its way onto his shoulder, causing him to tense as an instinct. "But as a person," he said, "I would have to say a job well done."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all laughed quietly. Kenshin held his back, knowing it would hurt, since the pain in his head was still there. It was fading, but too slowly for it to be gone yet. And he didn't dare move yet. The laughed died down quickly.

"So now you know," he said, praying that they wouldn't think any differently of him. Though he doubted it, since after finding out he who he used to be, they were completely fine with him.

"That's awful," said Ron. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because I've told one person in all of existence," he answered. "My mom knew part of it, but she didn't know about the pool. It isn't the kind of thing you talk about."

"Is that also why you don't like Hermione talking about house-elves?" asked Harry.

"Yeah. Great, I can't believe I said that about when I was five in front of the class."

"Oh, don't worry," said Hermione brightly. "The school definitely _not _going to be shying away from you in the slightest!"

Confused, Kenshin tried to look up, only to have the light hurt his eyes. So now movement no long hurt him, just the light. At least it was a small improvement.

"What?" he said, putting his head back down.

"Word travelled around the school already that you told off Umbridge," said Ron. "You're now crowded school hero."

"Okay, that was the last thing I expected to hear. So after I told her off, what happened?"

Hermione answered that one. "She left, told you to meet her up in Dumbledore's office after class. Everyone tackled you to the group, happy. Hagrid went back to his lesson. You stood up, were perfectly fine for a moment, then you said something I believe was a swear word in Japanese, and passed out."

"Everyone freaked out," said Harry. "Malfoy said something about it being because of the thertsals' bad luck, but then Pavarti turned around and told him he was wrong and it turned out Hagrid was right, which made no sense. She also said that Umbridge must have cursed you. Then the majority of us were agreeing, but still panicking—"

"Because, well, seeing a person pass out after something that awesome, mate, isn't all that good," said Ron.

"Then Hagrid picked you up, told the class to follow him out of the forest and then it would be dismissed, and brought you up to hospital wing—"

"Where we naturally followed," said Ron, cutting off Hermione.

"And then we waited here until you woke up," finished Harry.

"That's…ridiculous," said Kenshin after a moment. "And this isn't good. My personality shouldn't randomly change."

"It's not like you hurt anyone," pointed out Ron and Kenshin was forced to acknowledge that he had a point. Maybe it hadn't been so bad after all.

Now, if only he could remember.

"Where's Madam Pomfrey?" he asked, daring to look up again. Nothing happened. His head throbbed a bit, but the pain was almost completely gone.

"In her office," answered Hermione.

"Do you think she would mind if I just…left?"

The three of them stared at him incredulously. "Of course she'd mind!" said Hermione.

"But I want to leave…"

"Hold on, I'll go and get her," said Harry before standing up and walking towards the office. Kenshin looked at the other two.

"Sorry," he said.

"Sorry?" repeated Ron. "Why?"

In response he shrugged. "For not telling you anything, I guess. And for scaring you."

Madam Pomfrey and Harry came back.

"So you want to leave, do you?" she asked, looking him square in the face.

"Yes," he answered, looking back.

"Do you feel all right? Because I can't find anything that's wrong with you."

"I feel fine." Well, it wasn't entirely a lie.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Fine, go," she said and he immediately hopped off the bed. "But come back if your head doesn't stop hurting by dinner!" she added as they were almost to the door.

"Thank you!" he called back right before they exited.

"Blimey, I can't believe she actually let you leave," said Ron.

Hermione said, "I don't think she's ever done that before, at least not to any of us."

"But when we go in," Harry said, "she can generally figure out what's wrong with us, or at least see it and know the cure."

"Yes, I suppose," she said with a sigh. "Well, come on then, off to lunch! We still have time."

"Okay, okay, we're coming," said Kenshin as he was pushed along.

So…so that was nearly as bad as he thought it would be.

.

"Where's Harry and Ron?" Hermione asked the morning after the final D.A. meeting before the holidays. Kenshin was waiting for her in the common room and clearly agitated. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Um, come here," he said and pulled her into a corner. There he continued in a low voice, "Harry dreamt a…well, vision, of a snake attacking Mr. Weasley. I guess it must be true, because all the Weasley and Harry are now gone. He woke up, thrashing around and screaming."

Hermione took a step back and felt her face drain of color. "What? No, you can't be serious."

"Unfortunately, I am," he answered with a sigh. "Let's go…skip History of Magic today."

Surprised, she answered, "What—why?"

"Do you really want to go to class now, worrying?" he asked and she had to admit to herself that he was right. "Besides, Binns doesn't take roll call…He won't notice."

"I've never skipped a class before." She bit her bottom lip.

"Neither have I."

"If we're caught…Especially if it's by Umbridge…"

"We won't be caught, Hermione," he said and it with such certainty that she believed him. "Come on, let's go to the forbidden forest."

"Okay," she said, resigning. "But we have to be back for Potions, because Snape _will _notice."

Kenshin shrugged. "Fine by me," he answered as they exited the common room. No one seemed to see them, which was good. Everyone was too happy that in two days they'd be going home for Christmas break.

"So what're you doing for winter break?" she asked him after they reached their little clearing. The walk down had been silent.

"Staying here," he answered, using a spell to clear away some of the snow. He still looked extremely disquieted. "Hogwarts doesn't pay for the plane tickets and at this short of notice, my teacher couldn't find any cheap enough. We would've had to have gotten them in the summer."

"Can't you use the Floo Network?" she asked as they both sat down on the now dry grass. He pulled his wand out and tapped his side, lifting the Invisibility Spell on his katana. She blinked in surprised, not expecting him to have it. Then he laid it across his lap.

"No," he said, looking down at the sheathed sword. "Umbridge's controlling it, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." She paused. "Wait, why would that stop you? Couldn't you ask—" With one look at his face, she fell silent.

"You think she knows something, don't you?"

"Want to know something crazy?" he asked her, ignoring the question, as he stood up.

"What?" He unsheathed the sword and held it out in front of him.

"When I was a kid, I worked with a practice katana," he said and did one stroked with the sword, up and down, then stopped. "My teacher let me work with my first real one when I was nine, which is really, really young. It took me so long to get used to the weight of it, but I managed. Months, even."

He did another stroke in the air. She watched him, confused. Why was this crazy?

"At the age of ten I became Hitokiri Battousai. For one year I'd been practicing with a real katana. Only a few months since I was used to holding it. I really can't believe it's been five years…"

For a moment she looked him up and down as he went through a few obviously halfhearted motions. Only a few days ago he'd been practicing with a smile on his face.

"You hate sitting in desks all day, don't you?" she said, putting her back against a tree.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine with waiting, but I don't liking sitting still inside for all that amount of time."

"What's Japan like, Kenshin?" she asked, looking up at him. "Not the people, the place."

"Beautiful," he answered. "Whether it's in Tokyo, the biggest city in the world, or in the quiet mountains where my teacher and I live…It's nice and really green in my area, not grey like England."

"I wish I could go there," she said with a sigh, picking at a blade of dead grass. Kenshin stopped moving and turned to look at her.

"You should come with me, Hermione," he said, turning to face her. "Not this summer, of course, because I'd have to ask…Next year, over winter break maybe. Since Umbridge'll be gone, we can use the Floo Network."

"You're really depending on that curse, aren't you?" she said and he shrugged. "And I'll ask my parents. I would like to, but it's up to them. Would Ron and Harry come too?"

"Um, I don't think we can fit that many people." He paused. "Actually, I'd have to figure out how to fit you. Like I said, I'll ask him this summer. Don't get your hopes up, this might fall through."

"I know." She glanced towards the grounds. "Do you think we should head back for the castle now?"

"Give it five minutes," he said. "Once we get inside, we'll be mixed in with the students heading to their next class. We can't go in too early."

"I see your point." The two of them grew quiet. Then she said, "I took your name off the list."

Confused, he asked, "What?"

"The D.A. list," she said. "I took your name off of it. Obviously you're still in it, though. But, you see, if Umbridge finds out about us and your name is on our list—"

"Then I'll be expelled," he finished. "Thank you."

"Well," she said with a smile. "We ought to be heading back now."

"Right, let's go."

Once again the sword was made invisible and attached to his waist. With silence between them again, they went back inside, down to the dungeons, to a Potions class without their friends.

The next two days were very lonely.

.

Harry was in Buckbeak's room, hiding from everyone, when there was a loud knock on the door. He jumped because the last thing he expected was for someone to come up here.

"I know you're in there," came Hermione's voice, surprising him. "Will you please come out? I want to talk to you."

"What're you doing here?" he asked as he opened the door. "I thought you were skiing with your mum and dad."

"Well, to tell you the truth, skiing's not _really _my thing," she answered and ran her fingers through her snow covered hair. "So I've come for Christmas. Kenshin too, but we had to be sneaky about it because Umbridge didn't want him to leave. Anyway, don't tell Ron I don't like skiing, I told him it's really good because he kept laughing so much. Mum and Dad were a bit disappointed, but I've told them that everyone who's serious about exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well, they'll understand. Anyway," she added before he could say anything, "let's go into your bedroom, Ron's mum's lit a fire in there and she's sent up sandwiches."

She said this all very quickly.

So Harry reluctantly followed her to back to his bedroom, dreading the thought of interacting with people. Upon entering he saw both Ron and Ginny in there, waiting for them, on Ron's bed. Suddenly he felt very, very uncomfortable and almost angry. Whether that anger was rational or irrational, he couldn't tell. The non-Weasley redhead wasn't there.

"I came on the Knight Bus," said Hermione, once again before he could speak. "You see, Kenshin told me first thing in the morning and Dumbledore confirmed it. Oh, Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo's, and he'd given you all permission to come…"

After she finished talking, she sat down next to Ginny who was sitting next to Ron. They all looked up at him, expecting something. What they were expecting, he didn't know.

"How're you feeling?" said Hermione, eyes still on him. He didn't like that they were all staring at him.

"Fine," he said, even though all of them knew it was a blatant lie.

"Oh, don't lie," she said, further proving he was right. "Ron and Ginny say you've been hiding from everyone since you got back from St. Mungo's."

More anger came bubbling to the surface. "They do, do they?" he said. Ron looked away, but Ginny glared right back at him.

She said, "Well, you have! And you won't look at any of us!"

"It's you lot who won't look at me!"

"Maybe you're taking turns to look and keep missing each other," said Hermione.

"Very funny," he said and turned away.

"Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood," she said, which only made him angrier. "Look, the others have told me what you overhead last night on the Extendable Ears—"

"Yeah?" He watched the snow outside, trying to control his temper. "All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it…"

"We wanted to talk _to you_, Harry," said Ginny, "but as you've been hiding every since we got back—"

"I don't want anyone to talk to me," he said, feeling more and more nasty.

"Well, that was a bit stupid of you," snapped Ginny, "seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who."

Immediately the anger that was threatening to break the surface deflated. Now he just felt ashamed. Then he turned around.

"I forgot," he said quietly.

"Lucky you."

"I'm sorry." And he meant it, now feeling melodramatic and stupid. "So…so do you think I'm being possessed, then?"

"Well," said Ginny, "can you remember everything you've been doing? Are there any blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

For a moment, he thought and thought, but couldn't come up with anything.

"No," he answered.

"Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you," she said with a shrug. "When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there."

Almost immediately he felt happier than he had in days. Weeks, even.

"The dream I had about your dad and the snake, though—"

"Harry, you've had these dreams before," said Hermione. "You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year."

"This is different," he said, knowing with certainty that it was true. "I was inside the snake. It was like I _was _the snake…What if Voldemort somehow transported me to London—"

"One day you'll read _Hogwarts, A History_, and perhaps that will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you fly out of your dormitory, Harry," she said.

"Up didn't leave your room, Harry," said Ron and his heart soared with glee. "I saw you thrashing around in your sleep about a minute before we could wake you up…"

"I heard emotional voices," said someone from the door. Harry wheeled around and saw Kenshin standing there, handing in on the doorknob. "What's going on?"

"KENSHIN!" yelled Ginny before running over and hugging him. He stumbled slightly, looked confused, and hugged her back. Then they let go of each other. "Sorry, Hermione said you were here, but then we didn't see you. Where were you?"

"Downstairs, talking to the adults," he answered, entering the room. "They obviously heard about the Umbridge situation. But, seriously, what happened?"

"We just convinced Harry that he wasn't possessed by You-Know-Who," said Hermione as Harry sat down next to her. He nodded.

"I'm not. Good news, right?"

"Yeah, I heard the entire thing from the adults," Kenshin said, leaning against the wardrobe. "They're worried about you, especially Sirius and Mrs. Weasley."

"Well, they don't need to worry about me hiding out anymore," said Harry.

"How'd you manage to get here, mate?" Ron asked. "Hermione said Umbridge didn't want you to leave."

"Well, she couldn't _make _him stay," said Hermione. "She just blocked him from using the Floo Network. So I said I was taking him on the skiing trip with me, which my parents allowed, and then we came here."

"She _blocked _you?" said Ron, sounding disgusted. "Why?"

"Because she thinks I'm evil and doesn't deserve an ounce of happiness?" said Kenshin, which caused them to laugh. "No, I mean it. She really believes that, I think."

"Oh, we aren't doubting you," said Ginny. "After telling her off that badly, I'm not surprised either."

Kenshin shrugged. "To top it all off, I think Malfoy might of said something."

"Really?" said Harry, suddenly horrified. "I thought you scared him into silence."

"I thought so, too. But this might be paranoia, because it hasn't been mentioned and I've been in detention—That's why she wanted me there!"

"What?" the four on the bed all said together, though Ron was a little delayed.

"If I'd stayed there over break, especially if it was on my own since Hogwarts is almost completely cleared out, she would've been able to continue my detentions instead of giving my hand a while to heal."

"That does make sense," said Hermione slowly. "Though if she kept you in detention any longer, I think you might have cut down into the bone."

"That's awful," said Ginny and she looked a little sick. Harry glanced at the other boy's hand and for the first time saw that it was bandaged. "So when's your last week of detention?"

"Right before Christmas break was technically my last," he answered, "but I think she would've been able to extend it without anyone noticing. So I'm done now, finally."

"Good," said Ron. "Now you don't need to see her every day for hours on end."

"How long do you think your hand will keep bleeding?" asked Harry.

"No idea."

"Oh, she'll pay for this," said Hermione so vehemently that Harry was strongly reminded of her obsession of finding out Rita Skeeter's secret. "No woman—no person should be allowed to do that. Something ought to be done about her."

"I'm fine, Hermione," said Kenshin. "Don't worry about me, I've dealt with worse. My hand has been through worse than this. To me this nothing."

"It doesn't matter," she snapped, causing both Harry and Ginny, who were on either side of her, to inch away. "I doesn't matter if it doesn't bother _you_. It's still horrid and wrong and you were very, very correct in saying she has the mindset of a future Death Eater because she does. And I believe that you've been through worse physically and mentally but she's bringing back some absolutely terrible memories that you should not be put through any longer."

As Hermione crossed her arms out of anger, everyone stared at her, all eyes turned. She glared. After a few heartbeats of silence, Ginny said, "Well, I'm taking this as my cue to leave. I'll see you lot down at dinner later."

"Bye," said Harry absentmindedly as she got up and walked out of the room.

"Did I really say she had the mindset of a future Death Eater?" Kenshin asked after a pause.

"Yes," said Ron. "You shocked the entire class."

"You still don't remember anything that you said?" asked Harry.

Kenshin shook his head and said, "Barely. I mean, I know I said something, but I can't remember what. And I know I said something about the government."

"You said, and I quote," said Hermione, "'I know that you're a high ranking politician in a corrupt government bent on ruining a perfectly fine school, but you can at least have morals. Or a little tact, if you can't manage that.'"

"I don't remember that," he said. "At all."

"Are you sure _you're _not possessed?" asked Ron. The other redhead looked at him oddly.

"What? Why would I be possessed?"

"When Ginny was possessed by Voldemort she couldn't remember certain things she did," said Harry. "She had blank periods."

"Oh." He paused. "No, I just can't remember what my, um, other personality does. Sometimes. Other times I remembered. Actually, I generally _can _remember, I just can't remember my thought process. I normally don't talk, though."

"That could explain it," said Hermione. "What did the adults say to you?"

"Hm? Oh, I was basically told congratulations for shutting her up. I managed to keep Hagrid off of probation somehow."

"You did?" Harry said, suddenly happier than he was before, which was saying something, since his mood had already lifted considerably. "That's great!"

"How did I do this again?"

"You told her not to put any other teachers on probation," said Ron. "Basically you said that it was useless because we were learning. Blimey, I can't believe it worked."

"You can't? And you think I can?"

"Oh, yeah…"

"Can you do me a favor, all of you?" said Kenshin, looking at them with a weird expression on his face. "Please?"

"Okay, what is it?" asked Hermione.

"Well, can you not act like what I did was, well, amazing," he said. Then he quickly explained, "I don't really like that side of me, so I don't exactly want it complimented. It's bad enough getting it from the school and from everyone downstairs who I can't really say this too. So, can you please not do it?"

"You should've said something earlier," said Harry, standing up.

"Well, we all should know by now that he doesn't tell us what bothers him," said Hermione, raising one eyebrow and also standing. Kenshin smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry about that."

"It's not your fault," said Ron. "Now, let's go downstairs. I'm starving."

.

They had just barely gotten away from witnessing a horrible Mrs. Weasley-Mr. Weasley argument about stitches when they met the second year teacher Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. Kenshin was taken aback when the man appeared out of nowhere. His friends even more so. Frightening, very, very frightening, for no one with amnesia should be _that _obsessed with signing autographs and answering fan mail. It wasn't healthy.

"This is our long-term resident ward," said the Healer quietly to the five of them as she led them inside. "For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement…Gilderoy does seem to be getting back some sense of himself, and we've seen real improvement in Mr. Bode, he seems to be regaining the power of speech very well, though he isn't speaking any language we can recognize yet…Well, I must finish giving out the Christmas presents, I'll leave you all to chat…"

"This is the teacher whose spell backfired, right?" he whispered to Ginny.

"Yes," she answered in an low voice. "A horrible teacher, an awful fraud. He couldn't do anything…Though I wouldn't mind having him a teacher over Umbridge."

"Doesn't sound nearly as bad," he said.

Looking around the ward he saw that it was definitely designed for long term stay, even permanent. A lot of the residents had personal items around the bed. Predictably, Lockhart's arrogance persisted despite the amnesia, and on the wall next to his area were pictures of himself that were signed by himself. Really, vanity would one day be the downfall of humanity.

"Here you go, Agnes," said the Healer to a woman with fur on her face as Lockhart explained it was his good-looks that made people love him oh-so-much. A small stack of Christmas presents were handed to the woman. "See, not forgotten, are you? And your son's sent an owl to say he's visiting you tonight, so that's nice, isn't it?" The furry-faced woman barked.

"And look, Broderick," said the healer to another man, "you've been sent a potted plant and a lovely calendar with a different fancy hippogriff for each month, they'll brighten things up won't they?" She set an ugly plant beside him. When she turned around, she said, "And—oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?"

Immediately all five of the teenagers spun around. Kenshin was greeted by the sight of a woman with a green dress, very long, a scarf made of fox fur, and a pointed hat, which had on it a stuffed vulture. Behind her came a very, very upset look Neville. Suddenly the reason why they had to stop the fight between he and Malfoy all made sense.

"Neville!" Ron said. The other boy jumped. "It's us, Neville," he continued happily. "Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you been visiting?"

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" asked the old woman, looking down upon all of them. Kenshin felt the overpowering need to back up. He wasn't too comfortable here.

Neville looked in the opposite direction.

"Ah, yes." The woman—now assumed to be his grandmother—looked closely down at Harry and stuck a hand out for him to shake. "Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you."

"Er—thanks," said Harry as he shook her hand. Neville's gaze switched now to his feet.

"And you three are clearly Weasleys—"

"The shorter boy's the exchange student, Grandma, I told you about him."

"Yes, yes. Nice to meet you, boy," she said, holding out her hand. Kenshin shook it. Then she switched to Ginny and Ron. "You two are still Weasley's though. Yes, I know your parents—not well, of course—but fine people, fine people…and you must be Hermione Granger?"

Hermione, looking rather startled, also shook the old woman's hand.

"Yes, Neville's told me all about you," she said. "Helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven't you? He's a good boy, but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say." She motioned with her head in the direction of the last two beds in the ward.

"What?" said Ron and Harry and Kenshin gave each other a look of understanding—they would both hit him if it got him to stop. Unfortunately, that wouldn't go unnoticed. "Is that your _dad _down the end, Neville?"

"What's this?" Mrs. Longbottom said. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"

After taking a deep breath and staring up at the ceiling, the boy shook his head.

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" she said, trembling with anger. "You should be _proud_, Neville, _proud_! They didn't give their health and sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

Kenshin wanted very, very much to be able to get out of there.

"I'm not ashamed," said Neville quietly, glancing around, but focusing nowhere, always avoiding his housemates.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!" she said, then turned to them. "My son and wife were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

Hermione and Ginny looked shocked, their hands flying over their mouths. Ron looked horrified. Harry looked away and Kenshin just avoided making eye contact.

"They were Aurors, you know," she said, "and very well respected within the Wizarding community. Highly gifted, the pair of them. I—yes, Alice dear, what is?"

Neville's mother inched along towards them. She was thin, too thin, and her hair was grey. It looked as if she couldn't speak because all she did was make motions with her hand towards her son, palm open.

"Again?" said Mrs. Longbottom. "Very well, Alice dear, very well—Neville, take it, whatever it is…"

But her grandson already had his hand held out and his mother had dropped an empty gum wrapper into it.

"Very nice, dear," said the old woman, giving Alice a pat on the back as Neville softly said, "Thanks, Mum." And his mother walked away, humming.

"Well, we'd better get back," said Mrs. Longbottom with a sigh. "Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now…"

As they walked out, Neville slipped the wrapper in his pocket and it was possibly the saddest thing Kenshin had ever seen. The door closed.

"I never knew," said Hermione tearfully.

"Nor did I," said Ron.

"Nor me," said Ginny.

"I figured out the moment I saw him in here," Kenshin said quietly. They all looked to Harry because he knew something and it was apparent.

"I did," he said miserably. "Dumbledore told me but I promised I wouldn't mention it…that's what Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban for, using the Cruciatus Curse on Neville's parents until they lost their minds."

"Bellatrix Lestrange did that?" said Hermione, terrified. "The woman Kreacher's got a photo of in his den."

After a long stretch of silence, Lockhart burst out angrily, "Look, I didn't learned joined-up writing for nothing, you know!"

"Let's get out of here," said Kenshin, waiting nothing more than to do just that.

"Bye," Hermione said to Lockhart and they all echoed her as they walked out, let the door swing shut behind them.

"Who still wants that tea?" asked Ron weakly, even if they'd already lost their appetite.

"What should we do now?" said Ginny, ignoring her brother.

"I say we go back downstairs," said Hermione, leading the way, "before we run into anyone else we know."

"Do you think Neville will treat us any differently?" asked Harry, looking at the ground. "Now that we know—or, well, now that he knows we know, since I knew already."

"I can't say for sure, but I don't think so," said Hermione. "That fact that Kreacher has a picture of the woman in his den, next to where he sleeps…"

"We told you he was off in the head," said Ron as they went down the staircase. "I hope Dad's out of here soon."

"He will be," said Hermione. "Just give a few more days."

"I guess you're right," said Ginny with a sigh as they reached the room again. The Weasley's, Mundungus, Remus, and Moody were all waiting for them.

"Oh, we were just about to send Fred and George up to get you. They came back down about ten minutes ago," said Mrs. Weasley. "Well, come now, Mundungus is going to take us back now." They all shuffled along behind her.

"So where'd you lot head off to?" asked Fred, falling into step with them as they left.

"Oh, we went to go get a cup of tea," said Hermione, "and we ran in Professor Lockhart."

"WHOA!" said George, louder than he meant to. A Healer poked her head out of a door and held her finger to her lips. So he said quietly, "Where?"

So Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny explained, excluding the bit about Neville and his grandmother. They made it sound as if they only saw Lockhart, waiting for the perfect moment to escape, and left. Kenshin stayed silent. At the moment he didn't feel much like talking. He never did like hospitals. No one seemed to notice and he was happy with that. After all, he was prone to random quiet spells, so not talking wasn't all that unusual for him. Inside the car he made sure to get the window seat, so that only one person would be next to him rather than two. Everyone was chatting happily, as it was now known that Mr. Weasley would soon be discharged from St. Mungo's.

"Wake up, Kenshin," said a voice and there was a very hard poke to his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open. He hadn't even realized he fell asleep—then again, he'd gotten almost no sleep the night before due to a truly terrible nightmare. It was a nonsensical one, too, Umbridge being the head of a European medieval torture chamber and laughing as she threw ink at him. Sometimes he didn't get his own mind. "We're here." It was Remus.

"What? Oh, sorry, I didn't realize I…"

"It's fine," said Remus as Kenshin opened the door, stepping out. Night had fallen and he guessed it was around seven o' clock. "So, why were you so quiet on the walk down here?"

"I was tired," he answered, even if it was mostly a lie. "I'll see you later," he added, walking inside.

Of course, he really was tired, or he wouldn't have fallen asleep. But it was more seeing Neville in the ward that was screwing him up so badly. And hearing the Healer tell that woman that her son was coming to see her. Sure, back when he was Battousai, he didn't leave people alive to go insane and those people weren't dead, but their families were torn apart. He never really thought about families, preferring to focus on the individual, not everyone he or she knew. It was easier that way. Much easier. That's why he didn't like hospitals; they showed families ripped to shreds.

"If you say so," said Remus, though he sounded doubtful as they parted way. Kenshin knew he most likely thought the talk the other day was what was rattling him, but it really wasn't. To be perfectly honest, it wasn't all that bad.

The first night there, he'd been immediately pulled into the kitchen (the informal meeting room) and plopped down in a chair. Naturally it had been Sirius to grab him and he looked far from grim, unlike most of the faces in there. Most of the faces were set with worried lines, though he assumed it was because of Mr. Weasley's injuries. So he sat there, confused, until Sirius finally spoke up.

"We heard about what you did," he said and though it was obvious he was trying to hid it, there was a hit of happiness in his voice. "What you did to Dolores Umbridge, I mean."

Kenshin flushed, embarrassed. "Does every know about that?" he asked.

"Just about," answered Tonks, sitting down across from him. "Congratulations, we knew you would get the job done!"

"Oh, yeah, well, I said I would." He looked down at the table. "I never back down on my word, either."

"And we're very glad to hear that," said Moody, though as usual it was more of growl. "But you need to watch yourself. Reckless, some would call it."

"Your hand's still bleeding," said Tonks, grabbing the bandaged one by the wrist and holding it up. "We're happy that you kept Hagrid from probation—"

"I did?"

"—but you didn't need to put yourself at risk to do it."

"Well, I get expelled if I do it anymore."

"So, about Harry," said Moody. Mrs. Weasley sat in a corner, face white. "It's come to our attention that you can't help him if he's sleeping. Dumbledore's having someone else help with that."

"Do you mind still watching him when he's awake, though, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Yes," answered Kenshin.

"Would you like anything for your hand?" He shook his head.

"I'm fine, it doesn't hurt," he said, which was a blatant lie. But he could deal with it. Dealing with it was something he learned over the years. It more didn't faze him than anything else.

"Dumbledore believes that Harry has a mental connection with Voldemort," said Remus. "As of now he thinks Voldemort isn't aware of this connection. But if he does become aware of it, he may use it to his advantage and cause Harry to do something…well, not too safe."

Kenshin nodded. It made sense. "So you want me to stop him?"

"Attempt," said Sirius. "He's like his dad—stubborn. Lily was the same way. Once he gets an idea in his head, it won't be easy to stop him. So if you can't stop him, make sure he doesn't do anything alone. Basically, you go with him. Trust me, Hermione and Ron will go too."

"And be twice as careful around Umbridge now," said Tonks darkly and her hair went from purple to dark blue. "Dumbledore's power is being more and more restricted."

"There're going to find a reason to have him leave," said Mrs. Weasley and her eyes were filling tears. "So please be careful and please make sure the others are too. We don't want anything else to happen."

"I will and can I go upstairs now?" he asked, wanting to leave before anything became more awkward.

"One more thing, boy," said Moody. "Trouble's going to start soon—big trouble—and you have to be on guard because when the moment comes, you might have to do something you won't like."

"You don't need to scare him!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Look at his face—it's white as a swan's feathers! Go on, Kenshin, you can leave now. Go have fun with your friends."

And so he had exited as quickly as he could, leaving the starts of an argument behind him.

Now, he sat against the posts of his bed, wanting desperately to fall asleep and _not _have nightmares, something he'd only ever been able to accomplish in a moving car, for whatever reason. He discovered that with Tomoe, since on the way to Otsu, they had to sleep occasionally. Normally they did in motels and such, but he always found it was easier to nap in the car and she never seemed to mind.

Then again, sometimes real life was worse than any nightmare every could be.


	8. Chapter 8

Meep. This is 10,995 words not including Author's Note. I don't know why the chapters in this are so long compared to Assimilation...and I have less time to write these, too. Strange. Also, anymore Frailty suggestions?

I don't own HP or RK.

* * *

Chapter Eight

"Are you coming to Hogsmeade this weekend?" asked Ron, coming up behind Kenshin as they headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. "Because Hermione told me that—"

"No, I'm not—"

"—she wanted us to all go to—what? Why?" He looked at his friend, confused.

Kenshin sighed and Ron felt even more confused. He would've thought the other boy would jump at the chance to get at the castle. One look at his face, though, told him it wasn't because he had a choice.

"Umbridge restricted your Hogsmeade trips, didn't she?" he said, feeling disappointed. He'd be planning on dragging him into the joke shop or something.

"Yeah, told me last night. I was planning on going too." He sighed. "I mean, Hermione said we could all hang out, get a drink at the Three Broomsticks. I really wanted to get out of here, too. And I haven't done anything in ages, either."

"I guess I'll go practice Quidditch or something," he said, now feeling absolutely miserable. "I'm sure Angelina will call for a full on team practice or something anyway. I can't believe she took away your chance to go."

"Like I said, she's determined to ruin all and every possibility of happiness for me. And she's waiting for an opportunity to give me another few detentions, I know it. She'll find some ridiculous reason too and I won't be able to say anything about it."

"Are you talking about Umbridge?" asked Hermione as Ron and Kenshin sat down across from her at the Gryffindor table. "What did she do this time?"

"Took away his Hogsmeade privileges," answered Ron.

"But you haven't done anything!" said Harry, face falling into a scowl.

Across from him, Hermione was spreading open the paper as she said, "As unfair as it is, we can't do anything, now can we?"

"Yeah, we don't want you expelled," said Harry with a sigh, though all four of them were far from content with the situation.

Suddenly Hermione yelped, causing nearly everyone around them to stare at her.

"What?" all three boys asked together once the other people looked away, now uninterested.

To answer she pointed at the newspaper, where the black-and-white photographs of one witch and nine wizards. The captions underneath stated the name of the person and the reason why they were sent to Azkaban in the first place. So it was another break out. There was one picture in particular the jumped out at him, the picture of the witch. Originally it was because she was the only woman on page, which made her the odd one out. But then, after seeing what was writing underneath, he felt somewhat sick.

_Bellatrix Lestrange_, it read, _convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom. _Oh, he hoped Neville was okay, especially after what happened in St. Mungo's. Ron was still beating himself over the head about how he acted.

"Black?" said Harry, causing Ron to look at the headline. "Not—?"

Hermione wisely shushed him.

**Mass Breakout From Azkaban**

**Ministry Fears Black is "Rallying Point"**

**For Old Death Eaters**

"There you are, Harry," said Ron, looking at his friend after reading the article and remembering Harry's scar hurting the night before. "That's why he was so happy last night…"

"I don't believe this," said Harry, "Fudge is blaming the breakout on _Sirius_?"

"What other options does he have?" said Hermione and Ron knew she was right. The Ministry were so _stupid _lately. And they'd brainwashed his brother. No wonder Percy was such a nutcase now. "He can hardly say, 'Sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort'—stop _whimpering_, Ron—'and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out too.' I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he?"

"The government makes all the wrongs choices, doesn't it?" said Kenshin, leaning his elbows on the table. Ron nodded in bitter agreement.

Looking up at the staff table, he saw that all the teachers looked very, very worried. Either they were in deep, grim conversations or they were reading the paper intently. All except one teacher that is: Umbridge continued to eat her porridge. Every so often she would glance at Dumbledore with a glare on her face as if it was _his _fault. Well, it wasn't _his _fault, it was _her _fault and her beloved Fudge. Just like it was the Ministry's fault Harry and Dumbledore were getting treated so badly this year and that Percy was gone and Dad was hurt. It was their fault that Hogwarts was practically torture this year and it was _her _fault people had their hands torn open and couldn't do anything remotely interesting besides the D.A.

The only thing he couldn't blame Umbridge and the Ministry for, it seemed, was his dismal Quidditch performance. He'd quit the team if he knew it wouldn't make Harry feel even worse. But no, he'd do well, he had to, because he had to win that final game. He had to win it because it would get Umbridge angry and it would Harry feel better and he would feel better and everyone would just feel a hell of a lot better.

It felt horrible, he realized, when everyone's happiness was his duty. No wonder his friend hated it.

"Oh my—" said Hermione, causing him to look up. She was still staring at the paper.

"What's wrong?" asked Kenshin as Harry said, "What now?"

"It…_horrible_," she answered and spread the paper out in front of them again.

After reading he said, "Bode…_Bode. _It rings a bell…" He racked his brain to try and remember.

"Of course it does," said Kenshin. "We—"

"We saw him," said Hermione quietly. "In St. Mungo's, remember? He was in the bed opposite Lockhart's, just lying there, staring at the ceiling. And we saw the Devil's Snare arrive. She—the Healer—said it was a Christmas present." For a moment she stopped and quivered. Then she continued, "How come we didn't recognize Devil's Snare…? We've seen it before…we could've stopped this from happening…"

"Who expects Devil's Snare to turn up in a hospital disguised as a potted plan?" he said, knowing that was true. "It's not our fault, whoever sent it to the bloke is to blame! They must be a real prat, why did they check what they were buying?" The end, though, even as he said it, he knew was wishful thinking.

"Oh come on, Ron!" said Hermione. "I don't think anyone could put Devil's Snare in a pot and not realize it tries to kill whoever touches it. This—this was murder…A clever murder, as well…If the plant was sent anonymously, how's anyone ever going to find out who did it?"

"This really is a smart murder," said Kenshin, looking over the paper. "It really is. By Wizarding world standards, I mean. But really, whoever sent this _wanted _Bode dead. There was no reason to kill an insane person with a plant otherwise. Clever was a good way to put it, Hermione."

"Why just by Wizarding world standards?" asked Ron, confused. Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he was wondering if the other boy was admiring the killer's handiwork.

"You can find fingerprints if you have the right equipment in the Muggle world," said Kenshin. "And I doubt this person wore gloves. Not that it matters, since I don't think most witches and wizards have their fingerprints registered anyway. Mine aren't."

"You're confusing him, Kenshin," said Hermione, who was right.

"I met Bode," said Harry suddenly. "I saw him at the Ministry with your dad…"

Ron turned to him, mouth agape.

"I've heard Dad talk about him at home! He was an Unspeakable—he worked in the Department of Mysteries!"

Hermione folded up the paper again, glared at the front cover, and stood up.

"Where are you going?" said Ron, rather surprised at her abruptness.

"To said a letter," she answered, hurrying to get ready to leave. "It…well, I don't know whether…but it's worth trying…and I'm the only one who can…"

"I _hate _it when she does that," said Ron, highly annoyed, as the three boys left the Great Hall. "Would it kill her to tell us what she's up to for once? It'd take her about ten seconds—hey, Hagrid!"

Their large friend was standing be the door of the Great Hall as a group of Ravenclaws passed. For some reason he was still terribly bruised, almost as bad as the first day he came back. There were even a few new ones. No matter what he said, he was definitely up to something. Even Ron was able to see that.

"All righ', you three?" he asked as they grew closer, trying to smile but instead looking more like he was in pain, which he most likely was.

"Are you okay, Hagrid?" said Harry, though Ron thought it wasn't the best of questions—he obviously wasn't.

"Fine, fine," said Hagrid, missing one of the teachers who had to duck to avoid the hand being waved. "Jus' busy, yeh know, usual stuff, lessons ter prepare—couple o' salamanders got scale rot."

"What's scale rot?" asked Kenshin.

"Nasty disease," answered Hagrid. "Cause their tails ter fall off." The redhead looked a bit ill suddenly. "Thank you, Kenshin," he added, looking down, "fer keepin' me off probation. I know yeh had ter get in trouble ter do it an' I'm thankful."

"Oh, I didn't mind," he said with a halfhearted smile. "It's not too bad anyway, the trouble I'm in, I mean. It could be worse, you know?"

"I s'pose," said Hagrid with a sigh. "Well, I'll be off then. See yeh later, you three…keep ou' o' trouble, now."

"You lied so badly," said Ron as Hagrid ambled away, turning to his friend. "'It could be worse'—the only way it could be worse would be if you were expelled!"

"Well, I'm _not_ expelled, right?"

"Even so, since you aren't expelled, it's about as bad as it can get with you still being here," said Harry. "And of course you mind!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" said Kenshin. "But he thanked me; I couldn't exactly complain, now could I?"

"I suppose," said Ron. "I wish you could go to Hogsmeade still. What're you going to do on your own?"

"Hang out in the dormitory, I guess." He shrugged. "Maybe go to the forest. I'll find some way to occupy myself. I'm used to being on my own, so it isn't all that hard."

What a depressing statement. "Well, if you say so," said Harry doubtfully. "I just suggest you avoid wondering the halls."

"Yeah, I'm sure Umbridge will give you detention for walking on the wrong stone or something," said Ron, shaking his head. Really, it was completely unfair. "I don't get it. I mean, she's not even treating Harry this badly."

"But I've never successfully shut her down on more than one occasion," said Harry. "I haven't even done it once."

Kenshin laughed softly. "She's really lucky she wasn't a politician in Japan a few years back," he said bitterly. "She's so annoying she'd be one of the first to go. And I wouldn't even be the one sent unless she had _incredibly _skilled body guards. Katsura wouldn't consider her worth my time."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. Really, Kenshin sometimes didn't realize that in normal society that a statement like that transcended creepy and went straight up to downright frightening. It didn't help it think that he would only be anywhere between ten and fourteen at the time.

"Mate, she _definitely _isn't worth your time," said Ron, patting him on the back. He stumbled forward slightly, causing Harry to laugh.

"Don't hit him so hard next time, Ron," he said. "He's a twig."

"Can't forget short," said Ron.

Hermione, who materialized behind them, said, "Are you making fun of him?"

"Yes," they both said at once.

"It doesn't matter," said Kenshin. "What they said is true."

They reached Charms class, which was an ideal place to keep talking.

"So what were you doing, Hermione?" asked Harry. "What was this mysterious letter of yours?"

"Oh, you'll see," she answered airily, tucking her hair behind her ear as they got to work practicing. They'd been practicing the same spell last class, too, and the one before that, so it was starting to get a bit boring.

"C'mon, can't you tell us?" said Ron, having a feeling it would either be a disaster like S.P.E.W. or something that was actually worthwhile, like catching Rita Skeeter.

"No," she said firmly with no room for argument.

Oh well, it'd been worth a try.

.

"This one believes you, Harry!" said Kenshin as he, Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Weasley twins, and Luna were reading the mail caused by the article in _The Quibbler_. Really, Hermione's idea to do this was genius. Combat media with media. If only someone had done that with him.

"This one's in two minds," said Fred, who'd torn open another letter. "Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now…Blimey, what a waste a parchment."

"Here's another one you've convinced, Harry!" said Hermione and she read, "'Having read your side of the story I am forced to the conclusion that the _Daily Prophet _has treated you very unfairly…Little though I want to think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth…' Oh, this is wonderful!"

Ron said as threw a crumbled letter over his shoulder, "Another one who thinks you're barking"—He picked up another letter—"but this one says you've got her converted and now she think you're a real hero—she put in a photograph too—wow—"

"This is another one in two minds," said Kenshin, shaking his head. "Really, Fred's right: What a waste of parchment."

"What is going on here?" said a voice. A very familiar voice. A very sweet voice.

Everyone at the table looked up, though Kenshin, Fred, and Luna had to turn around to see her. Her eyes were staring at the owls and letters. Students all around the hall were suddenly watching.

"Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"Is that a crime now?" said Fred, thankfully saying exactly what Kenshin wanted to say but couldn't. So he settled for a quirked eyebrow and amused smile, which of course she noticed but didn't comment upon. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention," she said. "Well, Mr. Potter?" Why, oh why did she have to be so _insufferable_?

After a moment of hesitation, Harry said, "People have written to me because I gave an interview. About what happened to me last June."

"An interview?" said Umbridge. "What do you mean?"

"I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered," he said and it was the perfect answer. "Here—"

He threw the magazine at her. She caught it and when she looked down, her face contorted with rage.

"When did you do this?" she asked.

"Last Hogsmeade weekend."

"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr. Potter." Well, at least he had someone to talk to now, rather than stay in the dorm doing homework the entire time. "How you dare…how you could...I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detention."

On instinct Kenshin opened his mouth to say something, but before he could ever get a sound out, Fred smacked a hand over his mouth, which was much too obvious and caused Umbridge to notice before she had a chance to walk away.

"You can join him, Mr. Himura," she said and it took all his willpower not to speak as Fred to took his hand away. "For not stopping him."

"That doesn't seem very fair," said Luna in her dreamy voice, the only one whose face had not been given expressions of shock or anger. "He didn't do anything…"

"You have no right to question my authority," said Umbridge and walked away, clutching _The Quibbler_ tightly. All eyes were watching her.

"I can slightly understand Harry's detention," said George, horrified, "but that…she just reached a new….What _was _that?"

"I'm not hungry," said Kenshin, dropping the toast he'd been eating. Now he felt absolutely miserable, possibly more miserable than he'd felt all year.

"You should eat something," said Hermione halfheartedly, though she stopped eating her own breakfast too. Everyone had. "You don't eat enough."

For the first time in the year and half he'd know them, none of the Weasleys said her sounded like their mother.

"Let's go to History of Magic," said Ron, standing up. "It's early, but…"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Harry said, also standing. Kenshin and Hermione followed suit. Fred and George waved sadly as they left.

"I think I might somehow hate her more than before," said Kenshin as the trudged down the hallway.

No one disagreed.

.

_What comes up must come down. _

It was a something every Muggle child heard. Harry was no exception. After weeks of being believed and people telling him he wasn't a nutcase and everything being wonderful, life went down. And it kept on going down. It seemed like an endless spiral of misery. No year in Hogwarts compared to this, not even the last one when everyone thought he put his own name in his Goblet.

Right now, he'd rather face a dragon or merpeople than deal with this. At least Dumbledore spoke to him at that point and didn't seem afraid of him. Hell, he'd even fight the basilisk and save Ginny for a second time, or go through the obstacles as an eleven-year-old trying to get to Sorcerer's Stone than deal with this. He'd rather do just about _anything _than deal with this.

Right now, it was the morning break on a dreary Tuesday. And he and Ron and Kenshin were telling Hermione about the dream. Harry wanted to be anywhere but here. This felt like betrayal. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get these images out of his head. It didn't work. It was like torture, to wake up screaming, and have to explain what happened to his friends.

"So that's why they killed him," she said, taking her eyes off the headless Fred and George. "When Bode tried to steal this weapon, something funny happened to him. I think there must be defensive spells on it, or around it, to stop people from touching it. That's why he was in St. Mungo's, his brain had gone all funny and he couldn't talk. But remember what the Healer told us? He was recovering. And they couldn't risk him getting better, could they? I mean, the shock of whatever happened when he touched that weapon probably made the Imperius Curse lift. Once he'd got his voice back, he'd be able to explain what he'd been doing, wouldn't he? They would have known he'd been sent to steal the weapon. Of course, it would have been easy for Lucius Malfoy to put the curse on him. Never out of the Ministry, is he?"

Harry glanced at Kenshin, who generally had an opinion on things, but he looked deep in though. "He was even hanging around the day I had my hearing," said Harry. "In the—hang on…He was in the Department of Mysteries corridor that day! Your dad said he was probably trying to sneak down and find out what happened in my hearing, but what if—"

"Sturgis," said Hermione suddenly.

"Sorry?" said Ron.

"Sturgis Podmore," said Hermione. "Arrested for trying to get through a door. Lucius Malfoy got him too. I bed he did it the day you saw him there, Harry. Sturgis had Moody's Invisibility Cloak, remember? So what if he was standing guard by the door, invisible, and Malfoy heard him move or guessed he was there, or just did the Imperius Curse on the off chance that a guard was there? So when Sturgis next had the opportunity—probably when it was his turn on guard duty again—he tried to get into the department to steal the weapon for Voldemort—Ron, be quiet—but he got caught and sent to Azkaban…"

She stared at Harry, wide eyed.

"And now Rookwood's told Voldemort how to get the weapon?" said Ron.

"I didn't hear all the conversation, but that's what it sounded like," said Harry. "Rookwood used to work there…Maybe Voldemort'll send Rookwood to do it?"

Hermione nodded absentmindedly as Kenshin cut into the conversation and said, "I should teach you three a little something about back-alley warfare." He paused. "After class, just meet me in the common room and we'll figure out a place where no one can hear us."

"You have an idea of what happened?" Ron asked. Kenshin shrugged.

"Sort of," he answered. "And I'll explain that too, but most of all, I'm going to teach you not to jump to conclusions."

Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks. Harry was about to ask what he meant, but Hermione cut him off.

"You shouldn't have seen this at all, Harry," she said.

"What?" he said, surprised.

"You're supposed to be learning how to close your mind to this sort of thing," said Hermione firmly.

"I know I am, but—"

"Well, I think you ought to put a bit more effort on your Occlumency from now on," she said.

Harry was suddenly quite angry with her. To avoid a fight he walked away. They didn't speak for the rest of the day, not until all four of them met up again, after Quidditch practice for Ron, in the common room. It was nine and not many people were left. A few seventh years and two second years.

"So what did you want to show us?" said Hermione quietly, glancing around. Kenshin rubbed his eyes.

"Look, would you like my opinion first, or my lesson on how to not jump to conclusions?"

"Opinion first," said Harry. The redhead nodded. He looked exhausted.

"I think Voldemort's feeling stuck," he said and Ron winced. Hermione told him to be quiet. "Think about it: He's been staying in the shadows for almost a year now. And he regained power recently, so he probably wants to use it. But he can't until he's out in the open. And he can't do that because staying in the shadows is an advantage. He's becoming desperate to finish this quickly so that he _can _come out.

"That's why Malfoy has had to resort to cursing people like Bode and Sturgis and Voldemort got a snake to attack Mr. Weasley. It's because it's the only option they've had without being too obvious. They're going to have to better than that, though, and soon. He knows this. I think he knows he'll have to come out of the shadows before what he wants to accomplish is even finished yet. That's why Harry's getting so many flashes of emotions—the only way Voldemort can release any emotions is to torture his own people. The other Death Eaters are the same way. They can't wreak havoc yet. The Ministry is doing a better job giving the Order setbacks than he is and it's, to put it simply, annoying him."

"That does make sense," said Hermione slowly. "Some actions do seem a little…brash, even for them."

"Well, they're hiding out," said Ron. "They shouldn't be so obvious anyway."

"So now they're making mistakes," said Harry.

"But don't get me wrong," said Kenshin. "They won't be making mistakes forever. Voldemort or one of his Death Eaters will figure something out eventually. Of course, it'll most likely backfire anyway because they don't seem to be thinking anything through, but it'll cause a lot more damage. I think what they're doing is making up a situation, carrying it out, and believing it'll only have one outcome, the outcome that benefits them."

"So you think that the Order is—"

"Giving Voldemort intelligence he doesn't have," said Kenshin, finishing Ron's statement. "I think he's a genius, but he gets too caught up in the big picture. He's obsessive. To him killing Harry is the main priority, let's face it. Or getting Harry to his side, one or the other. Anyway, he doesn't think out details. If he takes over the Wizarding world, he'll probably do this: try to kill Harry, try to kill Dumbledore, take of the Ministry, get rid of Muggle borns, and torture people just because he thinks it's fun. And very few things he'll do on his own. He'll send his followers to do it, spread his troops too thin, and that will cause them to make mistakes. There are a few more things he could do, but won't and that'll be his downfall. He's a dictator—he'll fail, it's inevitable."

Harry laughed. "You're the first person to every call Voldemort an idiot," he said. "Insane, yes, but never stupid."

"That sounds about right, though," said Hermione. "Fascinating. _You're _the one who thinks up all the details, Kenshin."

"Did being in war really let you figure this all out?" asked Ron in awe.

Kenshin shrugged and said, "By this point, I've been ignored by my parents, enslaved and tortured, a witness to a massacre, learned how to sword fight by a teacher who doesn't understand the term 'going easy', been an assassin, been hated, and trained as a wizard where I've been swept up in another war. I'd have to say that gives me a least a little bit of experience. I'm street smart anyway, not necessarily book smart."

"Yeah, most adults can't even say that, I think," said Harry said as some of the seventh years left. "Anyway, what were you going to tell us about jumping to conclusions?"

"Um, yeah, it's about the whole Bode incident," Kenshin. "And how you automatically assumed it was the Death Eaters that killed him—"

"But it was!" said Hermione immediately.

"Harry, did Voldemort in your….dream ever directly _say _they killed Bode?"

Harry wracked his brain but couldn't come up with anything no matter how hard he tried. He shook his head.

"Well, I think they killed him too, but as an objective point of view, that might not be true. You see, well—oh, I learned about war using diagrams. It's easier. Hold on."

Turning around to face the table behind him, he grabbed some parchment and a quill and ink. The parchment was left over from his Potions essay it looked like. Hurrying, he unscrewed the cap of the ink, dipped the tip of the quill in, and drew a triangle.

"Okay, come here," he said and they gathered around him. "Sorry, I'm not a good artist, that's why I stuck with a simple shape."

"That's fine," said Ron. "But what's the point behind this?"

"Well, this side will be us, the Order and, well, the good guys," he said, marking the left side. "The other side, the right side, will be Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Voldemort and the Order are on the two opposite sides because they're the furthest apart and the most different."

"Why do a triangle and not two lines, then?" said Ron, confused.

"Let him finish," said Hermione.

"Anyway, so this bottom line is the Ministry. It's what pushes the two sides apart, but what also connects them. The top point up here"—He circled where the Voldemort side and the Order side met—"is Snape, who's our spy. He's the direct connection."

"He might not be our spy," Harry found himself saying, and Ron nodded.

"Fine, he _the _spy," said Kenshin. "Happy?" Harry didn't answer. "Bode was in the exact middle of this triangle." He drew a dot in the center. "He worked for the Ministry, therefore he can be connect with equal distance to the Ministry. He was being used to get this weapon, so he can be connected equal distance to the Death Eaters. And he had information the Order needed about this weapon or that they already knew and didn't want Voldemort to know, so he also connects equal distance to them. Ignore Snape. Do you follow?"

"Yes," they all said together, though Harry's understanding was hanging on by a thread.

"Okay, on to the reason I said not jump to conclusions." He glanced over at them, then back down to the diagram. "It's because any side could have wanted him dead."

"Why would our side want him dead?" Harry said immediately, anger suddenly flaring. Kenshin winced.

"Or the Ministry?" said Hermione. "They aren't acting the brightest right now, but I doubt they would want him dead."

"I had a feeling you guys wouldn't like this," said Kenshin under his breath. "But listen, the reason why Death Eaters and Voldemort want him dead is obvious and we've already discussed it. The Order, though…" For a moment he faltered. "The Order might know something that Bode also knew. It might also be something Voldemort _didn't _know. If someone put Bode under the Imperius Curse again after he regained his ability to speak and his mind was still too weak to fight back, he would have told. The only way to keep him quiet would be to kill him. And Hogwarts had direct access to Devil's Snare."

Silence fell. As much as Harry didn't want to believe it, it could be true. It all made sense. And Devil's Snare wasn't exactly something you could buy on Diagon Alley and not arouse suspicious. Actually, it probably wasn't even sold.

"And the Ministry?" asked Hermione in a small voice.

"Most people in the Ministry would never bother to even think about murder. Most would want to catch this murderer and if they found this incident was tied to Voldemort's return, they would believe it regardless of whether or not they wanted to. Some people, though, are in such deep denial that they will do anything to keep word of Voldemort's return quiet. It's politics. Simple, messed up politics."

"So really," said Ron, then paused. After a moment he continued, "So really anyone could have done it?"

Kenshin nodded. "I still think it's Voldemort's side, but it really could be anyone."

"But whoever's caught will go to jail, right?" said Harry. "They have to go to Azkaban, right?"

"They should, legally." There was a tired sigh. "And if they're caught before Voldemort comes out in the open, they definitely will."

"What do you mean?" Hermione looked every bit as afraid as Harry felt.

"I think the term in English is 'Casualties of War'," said Kenshin. "If Voldemort comes out into the open and the Ministry is forced to accept that, they'll have to choose sides. The side they'll choose will most likely be the Order's side. If it was someone from the Order who killed Bode and it isn't found out until then, if they give that reason, the murder will be considered a causality of war. If Voldemort ends up taking over the Ministry, the exact opposite will happen."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

"I mean that in war people die. Tons of people, sometimes an entire population, sometimes just a few. Both sides can kill. The side the law isn't on are considered murderers anyway. The side the law _is _own can kill as long as it's justified as necessary. Like, back in Japan, I can never be tried for murder. I used to be able to, when the fighting was still going on. Now that we've won the war, everyone I've ever killed is considered a simple causality."

"So—so the Order—" Hermione stumbled over her own words. Harry listened, shocked into silence.

"Let me put it this way," said Kenshin. "I bet that nearly everyone if not absolutely everyone in the Order can see thertsals."

"I never…I mean I knew that they…" said Ron. "But I never really thought that, you know…thought that they killed anyone."

"We're the good guys, right?" said Harry, finally finding his voice. Kenshin was looking away, not making eye contact with any of them. "So how come we do it, too?" It was a stupid thought, something only an eight-year-old would think, but he thought it anyway.

"Yes, we're the good guys," said Kenshin, switching his gaze to the ground. "But how do you think we'll ever stop the bad guys?"

.

"Hey, look, Harry!" Kenshin said, calling the boy as he walked next to him. He found himself with a large small on his face. "It's a fox!"

"You got that pretty quickly," said Harry, giving him an equally big smile back. This was the first time anyone in their group of four friends was in a good mood in a while. "What the happy memory you thought you because that's, well, corporal."

The white fox swirled around. This was probably the best spell he'd learned so far. "When I got to see you, Hermione, and the Weasleys first the first time in a month and a half," he said. The smile was _not _coming off his face. Harry laughed.

"I didn't know we made you _that _happy," he said and Kenshin shrugged.

"Hey, it's nice to have friends, you know?"

"Yeah, you're right," said the other boy. "When I saw the dementors this summer, it was an image of the three of you that let me conjure up my own."

"Really?" Kenshin said and he knew that Harry had no idea how much of a compliment that was. He could count the number of people on one hand who'd ever felt that way about him. "I had a feeling mine would be a fox," he added.

"Why?" asked Harry.

"No idea," he answered. "You should probably go walk around some more, not everyone's doing as well."

Harry looked around. "I see what you mean. Well, see you at the end of the meeting, I guess."

"Okay," he said as the other boy walked off. Though it was rarely a word that he used, he had to admit that the white, glittering animals were a little, well…_pretty. _

"They _are _sort of nice," said Hermione next to her, smiling at her silver otter.

Suddenly the door opened. Kenshin looked over, then down, to see Dobby tugging on Harry's robes. The fox Patronus faded into mist the moment Harry said, "Hi, Dobby! What are you—What's wrong?"

Apparently that spell couldn't survive the feeling of dread.

"Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby and he was shaking. "Harry Potter, sir…Dobby has come to warn you…but the house-elves have been warned not to tell…"

When he ran towards the wall, Harry missed grabbing him, but instead he bounced off lightly due to his many hats. Several of the girls let out quiet screams.

"What's happened, Dobby?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter…she…she…"

The elf went go hit himself, but was stopped. "Who's 'she', Dobby?"

Panic ran through Kenshin, because the she was obviously—

"Umbridge?" Harry's terrified whispered carried through the room. "What about? Dobby—she hasn't found out about this—about us—about the D.A.? Is she coming?"

After a moment, he looked up. Everyone was frozen still.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" he yelled. "RUN!"

"Kenshin, make this room give you another exit," said Hermione so quickly he barely understood her. "You mustn't get caught. Now, GO!"

She and everyone else made a horrible scramble to the door. Kenshin thought,_ Giving an exit to…and exit to…to somewhere I'll be safe. Give me an exist, please! _

Right in front of him, a door was created. Without a second thought as to where it might lead him, he opened it and went through.

It was Professor McGonagall's classroom. The woman herself was at the desk, in the process of grading papers. When he entered through the wall, she looked up. The door melted behind him. There was a moment of nothing when they just stared at each other, then:

"What happened?" she asked sharply.

Suddenly Kenshin found himself talking faster than he ever had in his life, Japanese or English.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I all started this Defense Against the Darks Arts thing where we were teaching students magic behind Umbridge's back in the Room of Requirements, she found out and she's coming to get us all, so we're running and Hermione took my name off my list but she's going to come anyway and I made the Room of Requirements put me where I'd be safest and it led me here and I need an alibi so I don't get expelled and-and-and I don't know because be this point I'm rambling and—"

"She'll find you in here," said McGonagall. Then she went to the door and shut it. "We'll say you've been with me for extra help. What could possibly be a reason you'd need help in a class you have an Outstanding in, though…?"

"My accent," he said, trying to fit together his scrambling thoughts. "Ah, I couldn't pronounce the current spell correctly so I kept messing up and you didn't want my grade to lower for something I couldn't help and neither did I, so you offered to give me a few extra lessons."

Was Professor McGonagall really lying to the woman who could potentially fire her to save him from getting expelled? Okay, this was…new.

"And I have something to tell you, Professor," he said, remembering quite suddenly something that in no way related to the situation. "It's about the—"

The door slammed open and Kingsley was standing there. Kenshin let out the breath he was holding because he expected it to be Umbridge. Even so, the man's face looked very grave, which wasn't a good sign.

"Sorry about the door," he said, striding in. Then he dropped his voice. "Hello, Minerva, Kenshin. I'm terribly sorry about this, but I have to keep my cover."

"We understand," said McGonagall grimly. No matter how much he understood, though, Kenshin still found himself fidgeting, scared.

"The headmaster requests you in his office," said Kinsley in a normal voice. He looked down at the quivering redhead. "And Dolores is already looking for you. Follow me as well. It's easier."

McGonagall and Kingsley exchanged a look. As they headed to the door, she whispered, "He has something to tell us." The man did nothing more than nod.

"Don't worry, Himura," said McGonagall in a clipped tone. "You have done nothing wrong. There's no reason for you to be trouble and I'll make sure Albus knows that and whoever else is there." She looked at Kingsley. "And Mr. Shacklebolt, whatever you have accuse him over, I can tell you that he's been with me since the end of dinner today."

"You'll have to tell that to the Minister," he said.

Kenshin's body quivered again. Really, he'd faced entire parties of men and women, men and women who pointed guns at his face and knives at his gut, but never, _never _had he felt this afraid. Not in years. Not since he was on that high dive, staring down into the unheated pool water, knowing that he'd been warned and this was the consequence. But at least it'd be fair back then. Right now….right now it was far from it, far from fair. And, same as back then, he couldn't fight back. Oh, but he'd annoy her today. He'd annoy her today with the last thing he could.

A proof of innocence.

When they entered the headmaster's office, Umbridge wasn't there yet. A man who fit the description of the Minister of Magic stood by the fire, rocking back and forth. Kinsley took a body guard position at the door; on the other side was a short man he didn't know. Percy Weasley stood by a way, quivering as well, but from excitement. In his hand was a quill and it was poised over some parchment, ready to record everything. When he saw the door open, his eyes shot open. For a moment he looked sad that it only McGonagall and Kenshin. When he accidently made eye contact with the shorter boy though, he lowered his gaze, leaving a very perplexed Kenshin to look over his head.

"Good evening, Minerva," said Dumbledore, who was sitting behind his desk. "Good evening, Mr. Himura."

Kenshin couldn't manage anything more than a nod in his direction, though McGonagall returned the greeting a very tight-lipped manner. For some reason, his heart was his throat. His katana was on his side. Hypothetically, he could get out of here in a sec—What was he thinking? Eyes stay blue, eyes stay blue. Mind stay Kenshin, mind stay Kenshin. Battousai didn't exist anymore, or shouldn't. Umbridge scared him more than he thought, which was saying something. Funny really, that she didn't do this until his alternate personality came out, which caused him to be crowned school hero.

Fudge turned towards him. "Hm," he said. "Asian, red hair, blue eyes, scar…You must be the boy causing Dolores so much trouble?" The end was more of a question than a statement.

"Absolutely not," Kenshin said dryly, not caring at all that he was talking back to the Minister of Magic. At least _that _much he could do. "Last I checked, there are tons of fifteen-year-old boys with that description."

Before the Minister could answer, Kinsley chuckled. Glancing towards Dumbledore, Kenshin saw the old man had a small smile on his face. "What's so funny?" Fudge demanded.

"It's not every day you see a boy the size of a thirteen-year-old with the bravery to be sarcastic to an authority figure," he said. Kenshin's face flooded with color. "You're a Gryffindor, aren't you?" He nodded. Another chuckle. "Well, you certainly fit your house description."

There wasn't a knock before Umbridge strolled in, clutching Harry by the arm. The two boys exchanged eye contact. At least Harry looked defiant—and he was able to do without being expelled. Yet. Fudge's gaze turned to him instead. It burned with satisfaction.

"Well," he said and then repeated the word three more times. Harry sent a glare. Good Harry.

"He was heading back to Gryffindor Tower," said Umbridge, excited. Really, she was sick. "The Malfoy boy cornered him."

"Did he, did he?" said Fudge and Kenshin was forced to surmise that the man liked to repeat things. "I must remember to tell Lucius. Well, Potter…I expect you know why you are here?"

Immediately Harry went, "Yeh—no." That was a save if there ever was one.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No."

"You _don't _know why you're here?" Well, that generally is what the word no means.

Fudge blinked in surprise. "So you have you no idea why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not away that you have broken any school rules?"

"School rules? No."

"Or Ministry decrees?" Steadily the anger in the Minister's face was rising, turning him a not-so-nice shade of purple.

"Not that I'm aware of."

There was a moment of frustrated silence.

"You know, Minister," said Kenshin on an impulse that told him he could speak without getting in trouble, "most people don't bother to memorize school rules, and definitely not Ministry decrees."

Fudge nodded absentmindedly. McGonagall looked down at him, amused.

"So it is news to you, is it," said Fudge, "that an illegal student organization has been discovered within this school?"

"Yes, it is," said Harry.

Fudge turned to Kenshin. "And you?" he asked.

"I had no idea," he said with shrug.

"We'll talk to you in a bit," snapped Umbridge. "Stay quiet." Apparently she seemed to have selective hearing because last he checked, Fudge just asked him a question. "I think, Minister," she said, turning away, "we might make better progress if I fetch our informant."

"Yes, yes. There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?"

"Nothing at all, Cornelius," said Dumbledore grimly.

There was a wait that only lasted a few minutes but felt like hours. Finally the door opened and in walked Umbridge, holding tightly to Marietta's arm. Cho's friend was the snitch.

"Don't be scared, dear, don't be frightened, it's quite all right, now." said Umbridge, who failed miserable at her attempts of reassurance. "You have done the right thing. The minister is very pleased with you. He'll be telling your mother what a good girl you've been. Marietta's mother, Minister, is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation. Floo Network office—she's been helping us police the Hogwarts fires, you know."

This is why, back in Japan, the Choushuu didn't use cell phones or emails or the post office to deliver messages. They drew back, took a step into the past for communication. Instead they used coded notes given to one person to directly give to another, or they delivered word of mouth. And always in code. Half the time the people giving the message didn't know what it was saying. And for weapons, they used swords and knives for kills. Bullets could be traced to certain guns, and guns could be traced to the shooter. There was a reason they were so rarely caught.

If only Hogwarts and the Order knew how to do that. Then the Ministry wouldn't matter in the slightest.

"Jolly good, jolly good." The repeating was getting annoying. "Like mother like daughter, eh? Well, come now, dear, look up, don't be shy, let's hear what you've got to—galloping gargoyles!"

When Marietta lifted her head to show her face, Fudge jumped back. He almost went straight into the fire and the end result was he had to stop on his cloak before his clothing went up in flame, him along with it. Marietta burst into tears and head the giant SNEAK written across her face in purple dots.

"Nevermind the spots, dear," said Umbridge, "just take your robes away from your mouth and tell the Minister—"

Marietta sobbed again and shook her head.

"Oh, very well, you silly girl, I'll tell him," said Umbridge, sounding far from sweet. Then her smile snapped back to her face. "Well, Minister, Miss Edgecombe here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She said that if I proceeded into a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirements, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately at that point this his hex came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my mirror the girl became too distressed to tell me any more."

Fudge turned to Marietta said, "Well, now. It is very brave of you, my dear, coming to tell Professor Umbridge, you did exactly the right thing." Bravery was the opposite of what a traitor had. "Now, will you tell me what happened in this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?" Another headshake. She looked terrified. "Haven't we got a counterjinx for this? So she can speak freely?"

"I have not yet managed to find one," said Umbridge sourly.

Hermione was a truly amazing witch.

"You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Potter had met a number of fellow students in the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade—"

"And what is your evidence for that?" said McGonagall.

"I have testimony from Willy Widdershins, Minerva, who happened to be in the bar at the time," said Umbridge, satisfied. "He was heavily bandaged, it is true, but his hearing was quite unimpaired. He heard every word Potter said and hastened straight to the school to report to me—"

"Oh, so _that's _why he wasn't prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets!" said Professor McGonagall. And people wondered why he had such a hatred for the government. "What an interesting insight into our justice system!"

"Blatant corruption!" yelled a portrait. Kenshin muttered, "That's a good way to put it," as the pictured continued, "The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!"

"Thank you, Fortescue, that will do," said Dumbledore.

"The purpose of Potter's meeting with these students," said Umbridge as if she'd never been interrupted about the obvious flaws in her perfect Ministry, "was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school-age—"

According to the Ministry and Umbridge, though, learning in generally wasn't appropriate for school.

"I think you'll find you'll find you're wrong there, Dolores," said Dumbledore.

"Oho!" said Fudge. "Yes, do let's hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on—Will Widdershins was lying, was he—?"

"You know, he is responsible for a crime," said Kenshin. "You trusted the word of a man you claimed was covered in bandages, presumably because he was hiding from the law. He could've been lying to stay out of jail."

Fudge looked at him rather oddly. After a moment of apparent thought, he cleared his throat and said said, "Well, now we have another testimony by Miss Edgecombe. So Dumbledore, was it Potter's identical twin the Hog's Head that day? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead man coming back to life, and a couple of invisible dementors?"

Percy Weasley laughed.

"Oh, very good, Minister, very good!"

Kenshin glanced at Percy, to Fudge, to Dumbledore, who was smiling. Oh, this room was too confusing. And he just wanted to get out of here because he technically shouldn't be here—his name wasn't on the list.

"Cornelius, I do not deny—and nor, I am sure, does Harry—that he was in the Hog's Head that day, nor that he was trying to recruit students to a Defense Against the Dark Arts group. I am merely pointing out that Dolores is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at the time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Harry's Hogsmeade meeting, so he was no breaking any rules in the Hog's Head at all."

Everyone who was bent on ruining Hogwarts had their looks of satisfaction wiped off their faces, because Dumbledore was absolutely right and there was no way to prove against it. Oh, the wonders of laws backfiring.

"That's all very fine, Headmaster," said Umbridge after she recovered. "But we are nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that happened since most certainly are."

"Well," said Dumbledore and Kenshin saw Kingsley whisper something and send a spell straight at Marietta, an act that went completely unnoticed, "they certainly _could _be, if they _had _continued after the decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that these meetings continued?"

"Evidence?" said Umbridge with her wide smile. "Have you not been listening, Dumbledore? Why do you think Miss Edgecombe is here?"

"Oh, can she tell us about six months' worth of meetings?" said Dumbledore and Kenshin realized it was either a Memory Charm or the Imperius Curse she'd been hit with—brilliant. "I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight."

"Miss Edgecombe," said Umbridge, turning to Marietta, "tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear. You can simply nod or shake your head, I'm sure that won't make the spots worse. Have they been happening regularly over the last six months? Just nod or shake your head, near. Come on, now, that won't activate the jinx any further…."

Marietta shook her head. Umbridge looked from her to Fudge and both looked shocked. For politicians, they were surprisingly bad at hiding what they were feeling.

"I don't think you understood the question, did you, dear? I'm asking whether you've been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, haven't you?" Another headshake. "What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?"

"I would have thought her meaning was quite clear," said McGonagall. "There have been no secret meetings for the past six months. Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?"

A nod.

"But there was a meeting tonight!" said Umbridge angrily. "There was a meeting, Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement! And Potter was the leader, was he not, Potter organized it, Potter—_why are you shaking your head, girl_?"

"Well, usually when a person shakes their head, they mean no," said McGonagall. "So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign language as yet unknown to humans—"

When Umbridge grabbed Marietta's shoulders and began to violently shake her, Kenshin remembered _exactly _why she scared him. His eyes shot to the ground, so he missed what happened next, though he heard the chair scrape back, so he assumed that meant Dumbledore was now standing.

"I cannot allow you manhandle my students, Dolores," said the headmaster.

"You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge," said Kingsley. "You don't want to get yourself into trouble now."

"No," said Umbridge, out of breath. Kenshin looked up again. He'd gotten so many hard shakes as a kid that it was hard to watch it happen to someone else and not be able to intervene, which he couldn't. "I mean, yes—you're right, Shacklebolt—I—I forgot myself."

"Dolores," said Fudge, "the meeting tonight—the one we know definitely happened—"

"I have a question!" said Kenshin, cutting him off. The Minister looked at him, exasperated.

"_What_?"

"Why am I here? I mean, Harry's being the one accused and it's already looking like nothing will happen…I haven't been mentioned once. Is there any vague need for me or was I just dragged along because you wanted to meet Professor Umbridge's tormentor?"

Umbridge sent him a filthy glare. "You were involved in it as well, same as Potter," said Fudge.

"Do you have any proof of this?" asked McGonagall. "Himura here has been with me since dinner ended. Because of his accent, he occasionally has trouble pronouncing spells. I believed it was unfair for him to get a lower grade than he deserved for something that was not his fault, so I have offered him extra lessons. Tonight was one of them."

"It's true, Minister," said Kinsley. "When I went to look for Minerva, he was there, too and her classroom is very far away from the seventh floor."

With a very taken aback look, Umbridge turned to him and said, "We'll get to you in a little bit, Mr. Himura." Then she turned back to Fudge. "Well, Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by certain _trustworthy _students, so as to catch those in the meeting red-handed. It appears they were forewarned of my arrival, because when I reached the seventh floor they were running in different directions. It does not matter, however. I have all their names here, Miss Parkinson ran into the Room of Requirements to see if they had left anything behind…We needed evidence and the room provided…"

Though he knew it was absolutely horrible for Harry and everyone else, he felt oddly relieved she found that list. His name, after all, wasn't on it, therefore there was absolutely no proof he was there. On top of that he had a teacher to back up his alibi. There was no way he'd get expelled for this.

"The moment I saw Potter's name on the list, I knew what we were dealing with," she said.

"Excellent," said Fudge with a triumphant smile. "Excellent, Dolores. And…by thunder…"

His eyes shot from the paper to Dumbledore, who stood behind Marietta. Nevermind, that list was no way beneficial to anyone and all hints of satisfaction faded. Dumbledore's Army. That was the name. And he was the one who named it.

"See what they've named themselves?" said Fudge. "_Dumbledore's Army_."

A panic built inside of him. As if knowing he was about to say something, McGonagall knocked him lightly on the back with her elbow. The message was clear: Stay out of it. If she knew that he named it, though, maybe she wouldn't have done that.

"Well, the game is up," said Dumbledore. Sometimes selflessness could be a very, very bad trait. "Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius—or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?"

Kingsley and McGonagall gave each other looks of fear. So they understood what was going on, too. No one else did, though.

"Statement?" said Fudge. "What—I don't—?"

"Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius," he said. "Not Potter's Army. _Dumbledore's Army._"

After making sure everyone's attention was not focused on him, he nudged Professor McGonagall, who looked down. Looking up at her, he mouthed, "I named it." Surprisingly, she didn't look angry in the slightest. Maybe she didn't understand it.

"You?" said Fudge.

"That's right," said Dumbledore, sounding quite cheerful.

"You organized this?"

"I did."

"You recruited students for—for your army?"

"Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting." This was all his fault. "Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course. And, I'll have you know, I didn't invite Mr. Himura. As skilled as he is, I did not want to risk his expulsion from my school. You can checked the list—his name isn't on it."

No, he didn't deserve to be protected. This was all his fault. Marietta simply nodded.

"Then you _have _been plotting against me!"

"That's right," he said and he sounded downright happy, like everything was right with the world.

"NO!" yelled Harry and Kenshin and the same time. Kingsley looked first at Harry, then at Kenshin. McGonagall elbowed him discreetly in the back. But this was all his fault. If only they'd gone with Defense Association—but then Harry would be blamed instead.

"No—Professor Dumbledore!" said Harry again.

"Be quiet, Harry, or I'm afraid you will have to leave my office," said Dumbledore. It had been years since Kenshin had felt this helpless.

"Yes, shut up, Potter!" said Fudge.

Due to the undesirable need to do something, Kenshin said, "Is there really a need to speak that way to a minor probably forty years your senior?"

"Quiet, Himura!" said Umbridge, as Fudge sent him a glare.

"Well, well, well—I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and perhaps Himura here and instead—"

"Instead you get to arrest me." Dumbledore was smiling. "It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?"

"Weasley!" said Fudge. "Weasley, have you written it all down, everything he's said, his confession, have you got it?"

"Yes, sir, I think so, sir!"

"Very well, then. Duplicate your notes, Weasley, and send a copy to the _Daily Prophet _at once. If you send a fast owl we should make the morning edition!" Percy scrambled to the door, which shut loudly behind him. Hopefully a thertsal would eat it. "You will be now escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged and then sent to Azkaban to await trail!"

"Ah, yes. Yes," said Dumbledore, "I thought we might hit that little snag."

"Snag? I see no snag, Dumbledore!"

"Well, I'm a afraid I do."

"Oh really?"

"Well—it's just that you seem to be laboring under the that delusion that I am going to—what's is the phrase? 'Come quietly.' I'm afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course—but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing."

Fudge and Umbridge looked positively mutinous. If he knew it weren't his fault, Kenshin would probably be holding back laughter. The short guard looked at the Minister, who nodded, and went forward. His hand moved towards his pocket.

"Don't be silly, Dawlish," said Dumbledore and with no hint of malice. "I'm sure you are an excellent Auror, I seem to remember that you achieved 'Outstanding' in all your N.E.W.T.s, but if you attempt to—er—'bring me in' by force, I will have to hurt you."

Dawlish looked rather confused towards Fudge, hoping to be told what to do.

"So," said Fudge, "you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores, and myself single-handedly, do you Dumbledore?"

"Merlin's beard, no. Not unless you are foolish enough to force me to."

"He will not be single-handed!" said McGonagall, ready to out her own wand.

"Oh, yes he will, Minerva!" said Dumbledore. "Hogwarts needs you!"

"Enough of this rubbish!" said Fudge as McGonagall leaned down and whispered, "Move." The Minister said, "Dawlish! Shacklebolt! _Take him!_"

Kenshin ran out of the way the moment a silver light whipped across the room. The floor trembled after a loud bang. Someone shouted something, a bird screeched. When the dust cleared, Marietta was beside him, being clutched by McGonagall, who'd apparently pulled her and Harry out of the way. The three of them stood.

"Are you all right?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes!" said McGonagall as the dust cleared. The office was a wreck. Kingsley, Umbridge, Fudge, and Dawlish were out cold. Magic was wonderful. The bird flew above their heads.

"Unfortunately, I had to hex Kingsley, too, or it would have looked very suspicious," said Dumbledore. "He was remarkably quick on the uptake, modifying Miss Edgecombe's memory like that while everyone was looking the other way"—Good, it was legal—"thank him for me, won't you, Minerva?

"Now, they will all awake very soon and it will be best if they do not know that we had time to communicate, you must act as though no time has passed, as though they were merely knocked to the ground, they will not remember—"

"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore," Kenshin said accidently, cutting the man off.

"Whatever for?" he asked.

"I'm the one who named it Dumbledore's Army. You wouldn't've gotten in trouble otherwise."

A quiet laugh. "I would have taken the blame regardless of what it was called," he said. "You kept Harry from trouble, and yourself. And don't worry about me, they won't be able to keep me quiet."

"Where will you go, Dumbledore?" asked McGonagall. "Grimmauld Place?"

"Oh, no," said Dumbledore with a smile that had no happiness to it. "I am not leaving to go into hiding. Fudge will soon wish he'd never dislodged me from Hogwarts, I promise you…"

"Professor Dumbledore…" said Harry.

"Listen to me, Harry," said Dumbledore, turning to the other boy, "you must study Occlumency as hard as you can, do you understand me? Do everything Professor Snape tells you and practice it particularly every night before sleeping so you can close your mind to bad dreams—you will understand why soon enough, but you must promise me—"

Dawlish twitched slightly, waking.

"Remember—close your mind—" His hand wrapped around Harry's wrist. "—you will understand."

The bird flew right over him and hovered for a moment. Dumbledore reached up and grabbed the tail feathers. There was a sudden burst of flame and they were gone.

_I would have taken the blame anyway. _

At least it wasn't all his fault.

"Where is he?" shouted Fudge as he pushed himself into standing position. "_Where is he_?"

"I don't know!" said Kingsley, standing.

"Well, he can't have Disapparated!" said Umbridge. "You can't inside this school!"

"The stairs!" yelled Dawlish and threw himself out the door, quickly shadowed by Umbridge and Kingsley. Fudge turned to McGonagall.

"Well, Minerva," he said. "I'm afraid this is the end of your friend Dumbledore."

"You think so, do you?" she said.

"You know, this isn't really his end," Kenshin, causing Fudge to look at him. "His end would imply he was dead, but considering he got away without so much as a scratch, I think it can be assumed that he's still alive."

"What—oh, you'd better get those three off to bed," he said, motioning the three students. He mumbled, "Now I can see why he annoys Dolores."

McGonagall sent him a discreet, grim smile. As they left, one of the portraits said, "You know, Minister, I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts…but you cannot deny he's got style…"

In silence they walked, first dropping off Marietta in the corridor that would lead to the Ravenclaw common room. Then they headed towards the Gryffindor common room, still quiet.

"You said you had something to tell me, Himura?" asked McGonagall, sounding exhausted. Harry looked over.

"Yes," he answered. "It can wait til tomorrow, though."

"No, come now. Potter, go off to bed. Himura will meet up with you and your friends in a bit."

"Bye," said Kenshin with a slight wave. Harry returned it. As they walked to her classroom, where it would be safer, he looked at her and asked, "Why did you help me Professor? If they found out you were lying, you could've lost your job…Sorry, I should've asked you to do it in the first place."

She sighed. "You're a good boy, Himura," she said. "Honest. An eager learner and hard-working student. You don't need to be expelled yet." Suddenly her mouth went into a very straight, thin line of determination. "And you won't, not if I have anything to say about. They've taken Albus and I won't let them take anyone else!"


	9. For the love of god, don't kill me

Okay, this is going to piss everyone off and I know it.

I AM planning on updating this. Eventually. See, I'm in all AP classes

waiting to hear from colleges and working my ass off

to raise my pathetically low GPA.

I spent all summer working twelve hours a day and when I wasn't working

I was either doing summer work for said AP classes

or sleeping off my days of torture.

So I am terribly sorry and I'll continue this over winter break since I'm not going to PR

for once. There, you happy?


	10. Yet Another Author's Note

Hey, guys, long time no see!

So, I get the fact that most of you want to kill me. Really,

I do. And I sympathize. But I just wanted to

let you know that I plan on continuing this story

(hopefully) when I get home and actually have access

to the book. :)

That should be some time soon. I hope.


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